


9½ weeks

by haikuesque



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 86,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haikuesque/pseuds/haikuesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen years after leaving KAT-TUN, Jin finds his life hasn't really gone as planned. The last person he expected to show up and rub his nose in it is Kamenashi. The last thing Kamenashi expected was that he'd keep coming back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by [Nightinbird](http://nightinbird.livejournal.com/). With thanks to [Tiggy](http://tiggymalvern.livejournal.com/) for the excellent beta and [Desh](http://deshisoraba.livejournal.com/) for the gorgeous art.  
> Posted in real time at [Haikusociety](http://haikusociety.livejournal.com), where you can also find [how this story came about.](http://haikusociety.livejournal.com/28184.html) If you're enjoying the story, letting us know will be much appreciated.  
> There is now a [Russian translation of this story here.](http://leen1707.diary.ru/?tag=82563)  
> Disclaimer: Fiction is fiction is fiction. We don't want this to happen. This will not happen.  
> If there are any warnings for this story, [you can find them here](http://ponymeter.dreamwidth.org/6337.html).
> 
> Haikuesque are [Solo](http://users.livejournal.com/solo____) & [Jo Lasalle](http://jo-lasalle.livejournal.com) at Livejournal.
> 
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### Prologue

He's in bed. It's raining, it's been raining all day, and he'd have to turn the light on to do anything. So he doesn't do anything. He can doze forever, though sometimes his back hurts, sometimes he feels he's been breathing the same air for weeks.

It wakes him up when the phone rings but it's another month ending with no pay day, so he ignores it. Meisa keeps her cool as long as she can, he knows she tries, but there's a school trip for Akira coming up, too.

He pulls the pillow over his head, over the fog that feels like a hangover. He used to at least get a drunken high before them, but he hardly drinks these days.

There's a knock on the door. A loud one.

Fuck. Not now. He's left the lights off, he's not even here, and he can't deal with this now. He huddles deeper under the blankets. His foot hits something which falls over with a thud. A bottle, damn.

The knocking starts over and doesn't stop.

So he shouts, "I'm coming!" and pulls on jeans and sweater because you don't talk to your landlord half-naked about your arrears, and he pastes on a smile before he opens the door.

The smile drops to somewhere around his bare toes as he stares at the figure outside. "Kamenashi?"

#### *~*~*

"So this is how you live."

Kamenashi turns on his well-groomed heel, on the small space that isn't cluttered with, well, clutter. Why Jin even let him in is a mystery to Jin, but has a lot to do with not wanting to make scenes where it might attract attention. "Well, it's just me," he says.

Kamenashi nods like this is neither news nor surprising.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

Kamenashi's eyes come to rest on the rolled out futon, but he doesn't comment. No need. "I heard rumors," he says.

"About me?"

"Well... not in the press." He raises an eyebrow. He's a patronizing shit. And Jin's never learned it; the way you're just supposed to take the condescension and smile and keep your place, even if your place is in a little rathole. But he can't say anything. Not when it's been months since pay day, not when he's dodging his wife and hiding from his landlord.

"Well, I hope they were interesting," he says instead.

Kamenashi actually gives that some thought. "I think you used to do better, actually. But, yes. Reasonably interesting." He seems to get distracted by the dust on Jin's ancient speakers, sitting together in one corner because Jin is not allowed to drill into the walls.

He's used to it, how small everything is. Small and messy and used up. But with Kamenashi standing in the middle of it like a monument to perfection, it's like a crumpled page of grey.

The years look good on him. Or maybe he just made himself boss of them, the way he did everything else.

"It's pretty far out," Kamenashi says.

Jin shrugs. "Well, you know." They both know. You get what you can pay for.

"And still I hear you're finding the price of this cozy little castle somewhat beyond your means."

Jin wishes he could get angry, or throw the pompous jerk out altogether. But imagining a rumor like this going around makes him queasy. "Who'd you hear it from?"

"I ran into your mom the other day," Kamenashi says.

Jin didn't tell her. She can't know. God please she can't know. "She didn't... "

"She didn't mention you much at all. Actually seemed embarrassed when I asked what you were up to. So that made me suspicious. Everyone knows Meisa has to hound you for the child support anyway."

Jin hates it, so much. He hates himself and he hates the world, and his own stupid choices that left him with just enough of a name that people don't even want him conducting their elevators.

"Do your kids come here?" Kamenashi asks, that fucking asshole.

"My kids aren't your business," Jin says, dead as stone. But Kamenashi's got steel in his eyes and in a flash Jin remembers those half-hearted tales he didn't care about, about Kamenashi becoming some kind of bigshot and taking on Julie on the inside and the Koreans on the outside, and just now he could believe it.

"I try to see them elsewhere," he says, turning away. "They don't stay over, it's too small. It's still not your fucking business."

"No," Kamenashi says. "It's not." His suit's immaculate. So are his fingernails. So's the fucking stupid foundation on his fucking stupid nose. What is he even doing here in cockroach city? Why is he haunting Jin like some technicolor ghost?

"How far are you behind?"

"What?" Jin says.

"Rent, Akanishi."

"I'm hiding from the guy. Do the math. Oh wait, you dropped out of school." And probably has no idea when one starts hiding, is it at a week, or four, or twelve.

"Ouch." Kamenashi hits his chest with one hand. "I can see I won't sleep tonight with how inferior I feel. Oh. Wait."

"What the fuck do you want? Do you find this entertaining? What sort of sick—" He bites it back. Something here holds him back, something about Kamenashi's place in the world and the fact that Jin's not quite at nothing yet, he's still got things to lose.

Kamenashi's fascinated by the decor again; by Jin's old acoustic guitar in the corner, as dusty as the speakers. He sold the electric one, and gave the keyboard to Akira for his eighth birthday.

"You don't perform anymore at all?"

Right. "Where would I? Who'd want to listen?" And not laugh, or gloat.

Kamenashi's face changes, polished ice showing cracks. "You want pity, Jin? After you went and threw it all away?"

"I don't want your pity, I never asked you for a fucking thing."

There's a silence where it feels like Jin's words would echo if his tiny apartment wasn't so full of dust and ten-year-old clothes. Where you could hear a pin drop if the floor was clean.

Kame licks his lips. Slowly; thoughtfully. "No," he agrees. "You didn't."

Okay. Okay, so they're clear here. Good. Ready for the next step.

"You know, I'd offer you tea, but I don't have any around. Or coffee. Very sorry. You could have some hot water... well, cold water, but it doesn't taste so good in this area. Probably got bugs. So now you got your kicks, I think it's best if you—"

"You can play for me."

He what? Kamenashi, standing in his apartment like there should be a camera filming 'interaction with adoring audience', talking... what is he talking about? Is he having a breakdown? Kamenashi, in Jin's apartment?

"What?"

"Play. Music. I would listen." Kamenashi scans the guitar again; the room. Jin. Like he can see too much, but finds something to like anyway. "Tell you what. I'll give you a week's rent, if you play for me."

"Play— here?"

Kamenashi taps his shoe, looking every bit like he's modelling it. "You can't think I'd take you out in public."

Jin ignores the dig, finally following. Kamenashi is offering him money. "Why?"

"Do you need a reason?" He looks Jin up and down, most casual thing in the world. "I was under the impression you needed other things more."

Ignore. Irrelevant. Embarrassing.

"You came here to get me to sing for you?"

"No, but right now it would please me. Well?"

"I don't know," Jin says. He means no, no fucking way, because this is weird and he's not here for show, for Kamenashi with his thick wallet and his slick shoes and his one-million-yen suit, and he doesn't even know how this happened but here they are, and Kamenashi is offering him money.

Kamenashi just stays silent. The moment stretches, a week's worth of rent, air to breathe and Kamenashi's talking about singing, singing that shouldn't be a cold knot of confusion in his stomach.

"All right," Kamenashi says, checking his watch. He's got a big one, elegant gold, nothing whimsical, not like Jin's used to be. "I don't really have time to watch you meditate, so I guess I'll—"

"Okay," Jin says. It's just singing. Five minutes.

Kamenashi looks at him. Cocks his head in an infuriating way. Like he's not used to getting his way, and there's a joke.

Then he nods.

Jin grabs the guitar, ignores the flurry of dust that rises. Something ancient, stupid and easy. Five minutes, no problem.

He clears the old bento boxes and older job magazines off the chair – a few more seconds to get his head together. Then he acts like he knows what he's doing and hits the strings.

His fingers are stiff, like the chords are strangers. It's an X Japan song, slow, and Kamenashi always liked those so Jin used to know it well. Should fit the bill.

But he barely gets to stumble his way past the first two bars when there's a, "No."

Kamenashi has his impatient look on.

"What," Jin says. He was told to sing; he's singing.

"One of yours."

Oh, that bastard.

But fine, Jin can play this game. He can be cordial and disinterested and he can say, "Was there something in particular you'd like?" and Kamenashi can admit this shit still matters to him. If he wants to. If he's got any balls.

There's that telltale moment of stillness. "Any of them will do," Kamenashi says. Coward.

Jin doesn't smirk, but it makes him feel better.

He picks one that was never about anything much, a filler from his last album before it all went down the drain. _Oh, baby, that time in the coffee shop, I thought my heart would drop..._   and the chords are easy even for his stupid, forgetful fingers.

His voice sounds awful. That hurts, even if he won't let Kamenashi see.

He doesn't remember half the lyrics in the second verse, but hey, it's English, what's Kamenashi even going to know. Apart from that, he gets through it okay, and then he's done and for a moment he's waiting to wake up and it was all some bizarre dream.

But Kamenashi's still there and now he moves, takes his hands out of his trouser pockets. "You've sounded better."

Wow, voice of discernment.

"Yeah," Jin says. And now he wants his money. "That'll be—"

But Kamenashi is already holding the bundle of notes out to him. Well, okay then.

"I'll be back," Kamenashi says, and suddenly Jin wants to laugh, ask him if he's the Terminator or maybe he thinks he's god, that he can just come and go as he likes.

But he doesn't laugh and he doesn't say anything.

"Next week," Kamenashi says. "I'll call. Try to find yourself a clean t-shirt."

Then he's gone, no waiting for yes or no or fuck you, and Jin is standing there, like the guy wasn't even here if not for the guitar and the moving dust, and the bundle of cash in his hand.

Jin flips through it. Closer to two weeks' rent than one. Figures. Kamenashi probably pays this much for his parking.

Okay. Fine. Whatever. Jin can wash a t-shirt.


	2. Week 1

## Week 1

### Wednesday

For once, Jin doesn't have a knot in his stomach while the dial tone rings out. For once he's actually making the call, not hiding with his phone turned off.

After seven rings, there she is. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," he says.

"Hi, you." He can hear squeals in the background and it makes him feel all fuzzy.

"How are you? Is everything—"

"Fine," Meisa says. "We're all fine." Then there's silence, awkwardness. It's weird when he asks to speak to them during the times he doesn't get to see them.

So he says, quickly, "I've got the rest of last month's money, I made the transfer today. And next week I'll have more."

There's a loud breath on the other end. "Oh. Oh, good. Great." Then she laughs nervously. Akira is shouting something about airplanes, and everything goes tight and sore. He didn't know what missing someone was really like, before this.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm really sorry I was late."

"No, I know it's..." Not his fault? Not such a big deal? "I'm glad something's worked out."

"Thanks," Jin says. He sang a song for Kamenashi. It doesn't sound any worse than getting hired for five weeks to sweep leaves off a lawn.

"Do you want to take the kids on Monday?" she says suddenly. "I'm going out with a friend and... well, it would be helpful, and it's Golden Week and you haven't seen them..."

"Yes," Jin says at once. Oh god yes. "I would love to. Monday's great. What time? Anything's fine."

"How about twelve? Does that work?"

"I'll be there," he promises. "We could do the zoo or... Yes. I'll be there. Thank you."

"I'm sorry, Jin," she says quietly. "I really don't want to be such a bitch."

"No, it's fine," he says. "It's your right. You're right." He still owes her for all of April. And Monday... "I'll get you more next week, I promise."

Meisa laughs again, with the nervousness that says it's better if he stops now. "Good, I'm glad," she says, and then, "Sara, dad's on the phone, come talk to him!"

Jin's heart skips, and dusty old guitars are forgotten.

  

### Monday

The monkeys are great. They all love the monkeys, and Jin loves the monkeys the most when he watches Akira giggle as two of the red-butted pavians chase each other from swing to swing and one of them misses and falls one storey down.

"That was dumb," Akira says, but then he stands on tiptoe to make sure the pavian is all right. Akira liked the tigers, too, but they couldn't make him drop the cool silent act.

"Hey, he's just a guy having a bad day," Jin sticks up for the incompetent monkey, and then the incompetent monkey opens his scary mouth and shrieks at the visitors, and Sara-chan squeals and hides her face in Jin's neck, her short legs wrapping around Jin's waist.

"You're a little monkey, too, aren't you?" he says. It's true, he hardly even has to hold her up, though he thinks with a pang that she feels heavier from the last time she crawled all over him. Taller, too.

"I'm not!" she declares. "But monkeys are scary." Then she pretends to bite him, and it makes them all laugh.

There are baby monkeys, too, adorable things with spindly-strong arms, and they watch those for at least half an hour, Sara making up stories for what they are fighting about and Akira helping her out when her plot goes in a circle or she loses track of which one was the girl monkey. It's the happiest Jin's been in weeks.

Then it's time for ice cream. In his head, Jin thinks this is for celebration, though he doesn't tell them that.

The zoo is crowded, Golden Week and good weather. Families everywhere, men who work hard all year on a welcome break.

Jin never envied them. So much they miss out on, with their hours and their offices. Then again, they don't have to give spontaneous performances for entitled jerks so they can see their kids, so maybe it all comes out in the wash.

"Mom said your work was very busy," Akira says, eating his ice cream with his typical fastidiousness. Sara, in contrast, has managed to get the chocolate smears near her _eyebrow_. "Were you working with famous producers again?"

It's such a grown-up question. Meisa worries about being a bitch, but in truth she's kinder than Jin could ever expect. "Not so famous," Jin says. "Just very demanding. Kept us up all night, I'm glad it's over and I have more time now. How is school?"

"Hm," Akira says.

"How's that new homeroom teacher working out?" He heard about her on the phone, complaints starting with the first day of the new school year, four weeks ago.

"She's totally useless." Akira kicks a stone along the gravel path. "I wish we had a proper teacher."

"I hate her too," Sara announces.

Jin frowns at her. "Don't say stuff like that," he says. "And you don't even know her."

"She's mean to Akira," Sara says stubbornly. "And he always does his homework, ask him."

"She's more mean to my friend," Akira says. He's focusing on his ice cream and avoiding his sister's determined glare.

"Park-kun?" Jin asks. "Mean how?"

Akira shrugs. "I don't know." He shrugs a little more, and Jin knows enough to wait. "She called him lazy and when I said that he's not, we both got detention. It was really stupid."

Jin stops with his ice cream; then starts again because he needs just one moment to think. "You shouldn't talk back to the teachers, they're working very hard to teach you things," he says, because he knows it's important. "But it's good you stand up for your friends."

Akira looks at him, totally noticing the contradiction. It hurts him not to have a good, clean answer. He's proud, _crazy_ proud Akira has this kind of courage... but how can Jin want him to be a troublemaker?

"What do you think I should have done?"

"I think," Jin says slowly, "that it would have been best if she hadn't called Park-kun lazy. But it would have been the worst if he'd felt alone and like nobody was on his side."

Akira looks at him for a moment before remembering his ice cream, and not letting it drip on his fingers. But something about that seems to make sense to him.

"Do you want us to go talk to her?" Jin asks.

He watches carefully. If Akira looked afraid or panicked, it would settle the question right there, Jin would be there _this_ instant. But Akira is weighing it carefully, in one of those moments Jin thinks he must have gotten all his brains from someone else.

"No, I don't think so," he says finally. "It was just a detention."

Sara has been watching quietly, not butting in. She's a good girl. She'll be as smart as her brother, as smart as her mom.

***~*~***

They take the train home among the throngs of Golden Week travellers. Sara is playing monkey again, before living up to her heritage and falling asleep. Jin clutches Akira close to him, ignoring that Akira is used to the trains and finding him fussy.

His arms ache by the time they arrive, but he could do this forever, Sara breathing sleepily into his neck, smelling like home and love, trusting him so completely. He could have had half a dozen and he'd love them all just like this.

They pass a newsstand, and for once Jin doesn't sharply ignore anything that might be familiar. Like Kamenashi. They outgrew the idol magazines a few years ago, so he's not everywhere, but two glossy ones still have KAT-TUN on the cover, mature and serious KAT-TUN, all four of them in suits. Even in the picture Kamenashi looks cold.

He delivers the kids and Meisa asks him in for tea and he stays, and gets to put Sara to bed, sing her favorite songs for her, and when he leaves he knows he can be back soon.

  

### Wednesday

Kamenashi calls late on Wednesday morning.

"I'll be there at three, maybe three ten."

"How do you even have my number?" Jin says. He sure didn't give it to him.

"See you then."

The line goes dead.

Well, okay. Jin's got a clean t-shirt. He's vacuumed for the first time in two months. He's got the next, equally meaningless song looked out. He's shoved anything to do with his family inside the one cupboard.

He's ready.

When Kamenashi appears, he casts a look around, nods approvingly at the floor, and deigns to step out of his pretty shoes.

"Better," he says, and suddenly Jin is _more_ pissed off.

He grabs his guitar, goes for the chair, Kamenashi's got five minutes and they can start right now.

But he's barely sat down when Kamenashi frowns. It stops him somehow; it's a sharp frown.

"What?"

Kamenashi's focus is unnerving, and disapproving. Then he pulls out his phone and starts thumbing through whatever, motioning with his head. "Go shave. I'm not paying to look at _that_."

For real? Jin hates himself a little for feeling his chin before stopping to think. Kamenashi gets to have opinions about his _looks_ now, does he?

Kamenashi is reading something on his phone, tapping the screen twice. Scheming, organizing. He looks like he owns the world.

Jin shaves when he sees the kids, because Sara doesn't like the stubble. But that's nothing like Kamenashi—

Kamenashi looks up. The look reminds Jin that he's shaved for bosses, too, real and potential ones, ones that never happened, ones that lasted for a week. Hated it every time.

"I wanted to get back sometime today," Kamenashi says.

Fine. Best hourly wage since 2010 and he's not going to have a fight over his facial hair. Who even _cares_.

And he doesn't, not really. It's like meditation, the door closed and the minutes ticking down. Kamenashi out there taking care of business. Just the scrape of the razor, he can't hear the phone tapping or anything.

He's not going to waste Kamenashi's time on purpose but it's no use if he cuts himself.

Finally he dries off, checks; only a little red. He smears the lotion on like always, and then he's done.

Kamenashi hasn't moved, but he looks up again.

"And?" Jin says, dramatically so before Kamenashi can even smirk.

"That's better too," Kamenashi says calmly. He pockets the phone.

Well, excellent. They can get on with it. Can they?

Kamenashi nods, and Jin sits down with his guitar. Feels the strings, takes breath to launch into _Hot Dogs in Central Park_.

And Kamenashi says, " _A Page_."

That fucking, fucking bastard.

Jin knows he's flushed, hot and red and betraying, but he lets it wash over him, swallows down the protest. A week's rent. More than that, not that Kamenashi will ever know.

He can do this.

 _You and I..._ No, he can do this. He can sing those lines.

It's a mess. It's got so many words, words he's tried not to think of in a decade, words that aren't coming back. It's not an easy song to do acoustic anyway.

It doesn't help that less than a verse in, Kamenashi pushes himself off the wall and wanders towards him, and that chord's off like fuck when Kamenashi's fingers brush his face.

Checking Jin's shave, maybe, but Jin's _busy_. Busy trying to remember that he prayed for protection, that he was in the light and loved and _right_.

 _You and I,_ all the time, it goes on for fucking ever. There's nobody there now.

Kamenashi is touching his jaw; light enough it doesn't interfere, and good, because Jin's _not_ going to start over.

 _Forgive me that slip,_ and then it all goes too fast, it went too fast, and Kamenashi's touching his hair and Jin's not sure if he even notices the _la la la_ s Jin is sticking in the English because he can't get his head to play along.

And then he's done. Kamenashi carefully pushes that strand of his hair behind his ear and steps back.

"That was pretty awful," he says.

"You try to remember that many words for over ten years," Jin spits out. "Next time, ask for something easier."

"Next time," Kamenashi says, "practise."

Jin's such a mess. Boiling over. But this shit goes both ways, he remembers _that_.

"Oh, yeah? So, what do you want to hear," he says. "Next time."

And there's that pause again, but it's not like Kamenashi can back away now, or even wait too long because that would be telling too. And right enough.

"Practise _Care_ ," he says.

Yeah. Jin swallows back something hot and biting, but he feels better now. They can _both_ enjoy that one.

Kamenashi pretends nothing's off, he's just _fine,_ digging through his wallet instead. He drops some cash on the crowded bookcase. "Your fee, plus ten thousand. Next time, I want you to have a proper hair cut."

Jin bites his lip. He can tell Kamenashi where to shove his money. Or he can take the ten, get a hair cut for two, and spend the rest on another zoo trip. With ice cream.

Kamenashi slips into his pretty shoes and gets out his BMW car keys. "See you next week," he says. For a moment he's a total stranger. Just some rich, thirty-something guy who has nothing to do with the holes in Jin's life and the ache in his heart.

"Okay," Jin says. And the door clicks shut.


	3. Week 2

## Week 2

### Thursday

Jin owns two suits. One is from before, for other people's weddings and graduations. It fits him again, after he stopped having money for beer, stopped going out. But he doesn't ever wear it when he applies to stack crates in the back of some supermarket. His second one is newer, cheap, and he doesn't like wearing it much either, but at least it was meant for this stuff. For going to see people to ask for things.

The building manager has a little office. It's gloomy like the rest of the house, but clean, orderly. There are files, and Jin's got a good idea what his says.

He bows in his seat, again. He has the envelope in both his hands.

It's eight at night on Thursday, a good time; a time Jin often has the lights off and doesn't exist. Yubawara-san checks on things like lightbulbs and locks and missing rent money when normal people come home from work.

"I am deeply sorry for falling behind, Yubawara-san," Jin says. He doesn't like Yubawara-san, and there's a whisper in his head about his greedy hands and all the things he knows about Jin, three and a half years he can chart Jin's jobs, Jin's lack of jobs, Jin selling his watch or his electric guitar, Jin's bows every time there's wheedling to be done for another grace period.

Yubawara-san looks slightly uncomfortable.

"The times are difficult," he says vaguely. Jin can tell he's trying not to zoom in on the envelope too much. He hates being so pleased that he actually has something to give the man, like a good dog bringing back a not-too-dead rabbit.

"This will take care of my arrears from February," he says, handing the envelope over, his head sinking deep. "Eleven days, I believe." He's passed the bulk on to Meisa, got his haircut, bought food. This is all the rest.

Yubawara takes it – both hands, always polite, polite like the supermarket owners and park managers who tell him sorry, Akanishi-san, your presence is too disrupting, you're too famous to be employed, we're sure you understand, and expect him to bow and be grateful for their _politeness_ , oh _shut the fuck up_.

Jin focuses again. Yubawara doesn't count the cash. Delicate, but then, he knows where Jin lives. Okay, that's almost funny.

"I'll have more when I get paid again next week," Jin says.

"That's good, isn't it, Akanishi-san," Yubawara says heartily, but Jin recognizes the blank look in his eyes, the look that says well, we'll see when we get there.

Jin knows Yubawara is just doing his job. Like everybody else who can now lord it over Jin, just doing their jobs, just doing the best for their company. They just never had the misfortune to be an idol and think they could have a life, too, they never reached for much, and now here they are. Yubawara's got his bland job and his scuffed suit and a receding hairline, and he goes home to his wife and sees his kids every night.

"Thank you so much for your kind patience," Jin says. "It should not get this bad again. I am very sorry for the trouble." He's pretty sure the money's enough to convince them he's still a better bet than the cost and hassle of an eviction; he's pretty sure he hates how he's got a fucking _strategy_ for this.

Whispers in his head, better a strategy than nothing, old bosses and cold strangers, his brother's voice, his mother-in-law.

Yubawara-san excuses him, and Jin bows on his way out the door, ignores the resistance from everywhere inside him. He puts on a grateful smile, and thinks for a moment he probably was better at smiling when he was younger.

It's not even a relief when he's alone outside, all the bowing and scraping makes his brain crawl with prickly heat and he wants to hit his head against a wall. Just to get some peace.

He takes the stairs up to his own gloomy room, and doesn't feel like turning on the light.

 

### Monday

"Excuse me?"

Jin looks up at the accent. She has red hair, a shy smile, and a very rumpled looking map that's getting more rumpled in her hand. Also a backpack on, and shades against the glare, pushed up into her hair.

"You speak English?" Jin says, because he hasn't forgotten. His friends left one by one as they hit their thirties, and his tongue wraps around the sounds less confidently, but he hasn't forgotten everything.

The smile spreads wide over her freckled face. "Yes. Fantastic. Thank you."

It's the first thing today that makes him laugh. She's lost, she says, she didn't rent a cell phone and she can't find her hotel. She sits down next to him on the old splintered bench and Jin helps her make sense of her map, asks how she landed in a hotel in this area and not somewhere more central. She's from Europe, and doesn't ask him what a thirty-eight-year-old Japanese guy is doing sitting in a park at two in the afternoon.

The days get so long when he's at home. And it's always quiet. So quiet.

He had a job last winter, four months in a row. He got up at three in the morning, and cycled for half an hour to pack bento boxes from four to noon in a sterile industrial kitchen; the hours wrecked him but it was steady, dull, and he was on time with his rent and his child support. Came home wired and limp and fell dead into bed when half of Tokyo was still in their offices. Those were good months.

"I hear the heat gets worse," she says, wrinkling her cute nose and laughing. "I couldn't stand that."

"There's good aircon everywhere," Jin says. "You just need to dash across open spaces quickly." His fingers mimic running feet before he even realizes, and she laughs again.

"Shelter in shopping malls, yeah," she says, and Jin grins at her because it's so obvious she's not the type. Not that she fits in out here any better, and when she starts telling him a tale of internet confusion and evil kanji, he catches himself _looking_. Noticing her slightly chapped lips and the freckles on her naked arms, the light blond hairs, the outline of her bra under a soft t-shirt.

He doesn't look, not normally. But he doesn't normally talk to people either. He comes to the park to watch the birds or to watch people from a distance. He's started to recognize the pensioners and sometimes he'd love to just go and _talk_ , even if they'd know full well why a thirty-eight-year-old Japanese guy is sitting in a park, at two in the afternoon.

They chat about her trip, her flight, her failed attempts at learning Japanese. She's younger than he is, but not scarily so. Bright like a sunny day and adventure. She likes him too, he's not that blind. He can smell her sunscreen.

Jin hasn't been with anyone since Meisa; those sad last tries at the end, a few months before he moved out. He doesn't remember the last time someone's even touched him, except when he hugs his kids.

He's started on _Care_. His voice is better, but still strange. _Practice_. He needs it. He wonders if that's what Kamenashi likes, that Jin sings and plays like he's trying to wear an old skin that no longer fits.

Wonders why it would even matter to him, when it hasn't in so long. He doubts Kamenashi needs to look at _Jin_ to feel good about himself

"So, I think I should manage not to get any more lost and end up a ghost in the streets of Tokyo," she says.

"Don't do the ghost thing," Jin says quickly. "That freaks me out."

She laughs; she's got a deep, loud laugh. "You're funny."

And when's he last been funny? "It's important," he says. "No spooking where I live."

She grins deeply. "I should probably get going. And with all this, I kind of missed lunch, I'm starving."

"If you head that way, there's a ramen place, it's good and cheap," he says. Yeah. It's really cheap. Even he could afford to buy a girl lunch there, if he really wanted.

There's a pause, she's waiting. What does he want?

"I hope you have a good time in Japan," he says, and she gets it and it's fine and he won't think about it.

He watches after her when she marches off, her backpack bouncing a choppy rhythm. At the edge of the park, she smiles over her shoulder, and then she's gone.

 

### Thursday

"Sorry I'm late," Kamenashi says blandly, stepping out of his shoes again. The floor is clean, again. He called an hour ago. Probably got stuck in traffic.

"I'm not in any hurry," Jin says, because why not. Kamenashi doesn't even make a quip. Picky about his digs of superiority. Maybe he's taught himself some taste.

The guitar is ready by the chair. Jin's ready too, prepared as he'll get, he's— what? Fucking _what_ is the staring about?

Oh, right, the haircut. He hates himself a little for the flash of nervousness. The way it fades at Kamenashi's nod.

Kamenashi looks like before, despite a different suit, a red shirt. Like he's a drawing of himself. Sharp and chiselled and unchanging.

Jin wonders, if you'd asked the eager little kid to draw himself, twenty years down the line, what that would have looked like. Like this?

If you'd asked Kame to draw himself... Jin laughs, and then it hurts, and damn he didn't see that coming.

"What?" Kamenashi frowns.

"Nothing." Nothing divided by years is still nothing. Jin got his haircut. They can get to it.

Kamenashi stands where he was, close to the chair, close enough. "I assume you're better prepared this time?"

Oh, yeah, Jin's prepared the fuck out of this. He could give Kamenashi _lessons_ on preparing for this. "Sure," he says. As long as Kamenashi's brought the cash. Five minutes, sitting and singing. That's all it is now. "Anything else, or can we move on in your busy day?"

"Go ahead," Kamenashi says. A drawing. Just as cold. Jin wonders if he prepared too.

He settles with the guitar, strums the strings lightly to check that the tuning's held. All good. So he launches right into it, because he knows what he's doing and it won't touch him.

Four bars in, a high-pitched, monotonous bleeping sound comes from  Kamenashi's jacket, and Kamenashi reaches inside.

"I have to take this," he says, with a glance at the guitar. His cell is slim, Jin's seen those fragile ones in ads. "Yes," he says when Jin has killed the reverb.

Jin can't make out anything from the other end, only that it's loud. A guy, he can tell it's a guy. Kamenashi lets him be loud for maybe half a minute, then he says, "Okay, calm down. From the start. When was this?"

Jin lowers the guitar and rests it between his feet. Settles in.

"They've finished shooting? Is he still there?" Kamenashi has started flipping through a notebook. A _notebook_. Who still does that? "Okay, I'll talk to him. Can you look up the director's number in the meantime? Thanks. Also get me the producer's. No, I'm not at home. Ten minutes. Yeah, thanks." He presses the screen; wipe, press, wipe. Waits. "Kamenashi here. Yes, I... yes, he told me. I'll try to fix it."

Jin can't help it; he wonders vaguely what it is, who _he_ is, whether this is some scandal that can make the front pages or just some Junior insulting a show host by having the wrong hair.

"Don't thank me yet," Kamenashi is saying, "and you can apologize later, for now I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Make yourself look as bad as you possibly can because that's the version _I'll_ be answering to."

Then he listens. He doesn't pace. He doesn't take notes, only nods occasionally. Jin thinks that once, there's a tiny inaudible, "Damn."

"Okay," he says in the end. "I'm going to make some calls. Don't go partying, stay out of people's way. Keep your cell on."

Swipe, swipe, bleep, "Do you have the numbers?" Scribbling, "Thanks, later."

Okay, Jin thinks, that's either a PA or a good friend. He doesn't know which thought annoys him more, or how it makes him feel that as far as Kamenashi is concerned, he might as well have ceased to exist right now.

Kamenashi straightens his shirt sleeves, his tie. He's standing right there in the middle of Jin's apartment and there's that focus Jin remembers from when they worked together, the focus just before the cameras started rolling.

And then the picture flickers as Kamenashi transforms himself into a smiling, friendly guy anyone would love to know and he dials a number he's scribbled down and introduces himself, is so sorry about intruding and so pleased that the director will make time for him, recalls with great fondness the last time they met and the director's amazing duck imitation, concedes that the director outdrank him neatly and he had a terrible hangover, takes only five more minutes to bring the conversation around to the afternoon's filming of—

Oh, Jin thinks. It was Tegoshi. And the discussion is too disjointed still, so much hinted and unspoken, but... something about an actress, and men getting out of hand. A nice dress, Kamenashi says full of adoration. Tegoshi didn't mean it.

It doesn't sound like it was anything clever.

But why does Kamenashi have to... why would Kamenashi _want_ to get involved with that? Tegoshi isn't even in his band.

Kamenashi laughs, bright and chipper. And apparently somebody asked Jin's question, because Kamenashi is coming out with stuff like 'disruption of working patterns' and 'agency standards' and 'responsibility', and then he stops short and says, "Oh, has she."

Jin can feel the ice from here. There's a lot of listening now. "And what do _you_ think about that?" Kamenashi asks eventually, and listens some more. Agreement here and there, a semi-chirpy, "Well, as you say, between men...," and eventually he says, "Yes, I would be happy to call him, if you have no objection, yes, that would be kind, thank you very much, yes, I have a pen." He studies his notebook while presumably he is being told a phone number and makes no move to write it down. Another minute of thanks and assurances of mutual respect, and that one is over.

Kamenashi doesn't even pause before continuing. Same persona, and Jin can start to put it together, first director, now producer, and who knows, maybe next the head of NHK. Same spiel, only this time they met at some award event and the special skill at which he beat Kamenashi was ballroom dancing and they shared deep wisdom about teenagers. Ten minutes later, the afternoon's incident. "Has anybody from our agency already been in touch about this?" Kamenashi asks, and the answer makes him frown, but the longer he listens, the more the frown clears.

"I'm very pleased to hear that," he says, "that's a great help. It may interest you to know that the agency has also spoken to the director of the segment, if you wanted to co-ordinate your approach. No, please don't thank me, I have to thank you, I'm very glad that we are in such agreement..."

And another five minutes of peace to the world, Kamenashi at his most shamelessly seductive, until he finally hits the off button.

Then that smile slips off too, and he straightens, and breathes slowly, and blinks. Looks at Jin, at Jin's room, like he doesn't know how he got here.

Blinks again and remembers.

"Please bear with me," he says, impeccably polite all of a sudden, a hangover maybe from good little Kazuya-kun. "Only two more minutes."

But he doesn't wait for Jin to even react.

"All clear," he says after the next swipe and tap. "Tell him all clear. Tell him debrief at seven tomorrow morning, unless he's got work then. The usual place."

This time when he hangs up, he slips the phone back into his jacket.

"What was that all about?" Jin asks.

Kamenashi stares at him. Yes, hi, Jin is here, it's Jin's _apartment_. And Kamenashi's remembering, good little Kazuya-kun clearing like a dull fog from a cool wind.

"Nothing that concerns you," he says.

"Since when does Tegoshi concern you?"

" _Also_ doesn't concern you," Kamenashi snaps. "You made that very clear."

"You know they fired me, you arrogant shit."

There, that feels better. Even Kamenashi angry feels— Kamenashi's paused, and for a change he really seems to see Jin. "People don't usually call me that to my face."

"Well, I'm just _special_."

"Weren't you always," Kamenashi says, and it carries so much, such a fucking old weight. Too special for Johnny's, yeah.

But Kamenashi seems off that track now. The irritation's gone, his eyes… intrigued. "You got your haircut."

"Yes," Jin says patiently. "You noticed earlier. Tidy enough for you?"

"It suits you much better."

Well, good thing Jin spent so much time comparison-shopping for hairdressers.

"And you practiced?"

Jin taps his guitar. "Cut my hair, practiced my little song." And fuck if he knows why Kamenashi seems to find that fascinating when he _really_ doubts the jerk spends sleepless nights wondering about the quality of Jin's five-minute special performance. "So, you want to hear?"

"I do," Kamenashi says.

Yeah, good, wouldn't do to waste all that practice. And Kamenashi's five minutes, that would be terribly inefficient. Never mind that hour of Jin's life wasted listening to one-sided phone calls.

_Focus._

_Care_ came back hard, but now he's got it, clear from the first chord.

Kamenashi is close like he wants to watch Jin's fingers. But there's nothing to see. It's a song, and Jin can sing it so it has meanings for strangers but not to him.

The first eight bars go steady, the next eight too, nothing on him but Kamenashi's laserbeam stare, the air around them coming to rest. Just a clean song cold like nothing and he's thinking maybe this is all and that was the last of the weirdness, when Kamenashi moves.

So, right, Jin thinks when those fingers probe his hair again. Physical inspection clearly part of the admission price here. Just as well he set it high.

It's strangely easy not to be bothered by it, to keep the words lining up one after the next while Kamenashi's thumb strokes over his forehead and wisps whatever imaginary strands he finds there out of his eyes.

Distracting, for a moment, when a hand moves down the side of his face, and lightly along his jaw – he's _singing_ here, trying to enunciate, yes? The touch smells of nicotine, a bite sunk deep into the skin.

But somehow it works, stays just this side of interfering. His cheek, and down, his neck. Just happening. Suddenly Jin has to bite back a giggle, because what the fuck. What the fucking fuck, Kamenashi.

But then he gets it together again, next verse and whatever, vee of his t-shirt and whatever, Kamenashi's not going to go for Jin's collarbones and ruin his pretty song. Kamenashi is careful. And Jin keeps singing. Like this is normal, like he isn't being felt up by an idol and a schemer and a _jerk_ , like he knows what he's doing, what they're doing.

He wonders if Kamenashi knows what he's doing. He wonders if Kamenashi knows he's turned on and Jin, where he's sitting, is in prime position to know it.

He loved that song once, and now it's clear as water, concluding easily. It's all easy.

Kamenashi's fingers are dry, just at the edge of Jin's t-shirt. Jin can smell his perfume under the crisp shirt, a scent he doesn't know, harder and more masculine. Five minutes, a song's worth of whatever. Jin waits; counts.

Kamenashi takes his hand away. "That was flawless," he says.

Yeah, flawless like a vocaloid. He made damn sure of that. "Expected something different?" Bet he did. But Jin can sing songs like Kamenashi wears his Gucci shoes.

"Just glad you made use of the time you had," Kamenashi says. "I appreciate it."

He still has some red in his cheeks, from the appreciating. Maybe that's all he has for getting his jollies these days, bossing people around and feeling superior.

"...beer?" Kamenashi is saying, and Jin blinks.

"What?"

"Do you have any? I'd like some."

"Yeah," Jin says. "I'm months behind on my rent and child support because I spent it all on beer, my fridge is full of it and there's another stash in the guitar case. Help yourself."

Kamenashi stares at him, and for a moment, Jin stares back. And then somehow, it's an old feeling, older than that song even, familiar from twenty years and more.

"I don't have beer, are you brain damaged?" he says. "You can have tea if you want."

Kamenashi only hesitates for a moment. "Fine." And finally he takes a step back, so Jin can get out of his chair and be of service.

Thankfully Jin's got water hot and waiting. He keeps busy with pot, leaves, strainer, until they're both standing there with steaming cups in their hands and then it's... quiet.

Kamenashi studies the Costco Special Value brew like he's trying to read his fortune in the dregs Jin didn't quite manage to filter out.

"So, what did Tegoshi do, and why are they calling you about it?"

That brings Kamenashi's focus back. He thinks about the question, or maybe about Jin, for a tense moment. "Tegoshi complimented an actress' dress. The comedians on the show joined in and the complimenting got a little out of hand."

"That doesn't sound so terrible," Jin says.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you."

Jin waits, while Kamenashi frowns to himself. He's the same glib, polished bastard he was last week, and Jin doesn't know why this feels so undramatic. "So why you?" he prods.

Kamenashi has the first sip of his tea, managing to make it look like a shrug. "I merely offer guidance," he says, which is total bullshit, that humble act was bullshit twenty _years_ ago.

Jin may be a loser, but he's not stupid.

Kamenashi looks around again, at Jin's very tidy, extra special audience guest proof place. "So what _do_ you do all day?"

Jin lifts his shoulders, and oddly enough really doesn't give a fuck. "This and that. Go for walks. See the kids. Look for jobs." He waits to see if further insults start happening, but Kamenashi just seems to process this information about Jin's illustrious lifestyle.

"Exciting," he says.

Jin shrugs again. "Hey, I've got lots of time for comparison shopping."

Kamenashi snorts. It looks like an accident, a twist his smug bland face wasn't meant for.

"Want any tips?" Jin asks, just because, just because he can't help grinning a bit, and just like that Kamenashi sobers again.

"No, thank you," he says in a clipped tone. "I don't exactly have your kind of time."

Well, good they have that cleared up. Jin puts his cup down. "Well, please don't let me keep you from _your_ exciting life. I couldn't handle the guilt."

Kamenashi is a bit slow to find a suitable place for his own cup and settles on the empty row in the bookcase where Jin moved the kids' pictures away. "Don't worry on my account," he says. "I'd hate to add to your burdens."

Fuck him. Him and the shiny shoes he walked in on.

"Okay," Jin says, ready to remind the guy about his rate, but Kamenashi is already fishing for his wallet. He flips through it almost carelessly and holds out a fan of bills.

"Here," he says. "And thank you for the tea, it was... wet."

"What do you want next week?" Jin asks as he pockets the cash.

It seems to bring him up short. Getting a bit lost in our condescension, were we? "Pick something," Kamenashi says finally. "But work on it."

Well, they have established Jin can just about fit it into his schedule. One flawless Hot Dog in Central Park, coming right up.

Kamenashi turns like he could never wait to leave, and then he's gone.

Outside it's dark, but the room doesn't feel much brighter. Jin stares for a moment and gets his head together, and then he picks up their cups, might as well, for once his apartment's clean. Bastard didn't even finish it.

He rinses the cups, then remembers he wants to wash his face too, what with the five minute quality check and all.

It's hard light from a shadeless lamp. Jin dries his face, his precious new hair damp from the splash. He used to look better even in bad light; not so ghostly, not with the shade of lines around his eyes when he looks too hard.

Flawless.

Now flawless is meaningless melodies and lyrics he can't feel. Focus and indifference, and Kamenashi's condescending face.

Jin smacks the towel on the rack and stops looking at his eyes or his jaw or his neck, or the line of his t-shirt.


	4. Week 3

## Week 3

### Saturday

"You really don't have to stay." Meisa slips into her peach-colored coat and looks guilty. "I thought you wouldn't have time because of your new job now and I really needed someone..."

"It's fine," Jin says for the third time, keeping his voice low too. "Don't worry about it, okay? I don't think they're paying you to be frowny-face stresspuppy."

She laughs. "They're paying me to look like I know about cars." She's the face of a Nissan show-room opening, four days noon to night, and she's really happy about it.

"You look amazing," he says.

"They've got the clothes and the stylist waiting for me there," she grins, hunting for her car keys in the ever messy key drawer in the genkan.

"Still," he says, but leaves it at that.

Then Meisa is ready to go, pushing back her shoulders. "Don't let her..." She makes a face again.

"I'm _fine_ ," Jin says. "Now don't be late."

He watches her beautiful legs as she walks down the corridor. There's a kick in her step that wasn't there last week, and it makes his heart lighter. It's been a while since she's had a good gig like this.

Then he steps back inside and steels himself.

"Did mom find her keys?" Sara-chan says from the dining table where she's drawing things.

Akira is doing his homework as Meisa told him, and there wasn't even any wheedling that it could wait till Sunday. "She _always_ looks for them for _ages_ ," he contributes.

It used to be Jin always searching for shit but they're too young to remember; it hasn't been his car in five years. "She's on her way," he says. On her way and ready to kick some ass. Okay, he doesn't say that.

"So, Jin-san, will you be staying for lunch then?" his mother-in-law says, perfect polite smile on her lipstick mouth and the sweet tone that triggers Jin's guilt reflex without her even trying.

"If you don't mind," he says with a little bow. "I thought I'd spend the day with the kids."

"Dad can check my homework," Akira says. "I have lots of English stuff."

"Of course I don't mind," she says. "As long as it's not keeping you from your work."

"My work doesn't start till late," he says meekly.

"I drew a guitar, dad," Sara says, and waves him over. Jin gives a small apologetic bow, but it seems his visitor's pass for today has been granted, and Kuroki-san turns back towards the kitchen, where she likes to spend most of her time.

Sara's guitar has three strings and looks like a legless camel.

"Very good, princess," Jin says.

"What should I have next?" she asks him. Clearly she aims to start a band here.

"Drums," Jin says. "That's important. But it might be a bit difficult to draw."

"I can do it," Sara declares, and starts with a bold artist's stroke.

He checks on Akira while she is doing her thing. Turns out the homework is math at the moment and Akira's getting on quite well. Bright boy. "I have to memorize a text for English," he says, peering up. "Can you test me later?"

"Yes, of course," Jin says, and Akira only squirms a little when he ruffles his hair.

"Daaaaad," Sara complains. "My drum sucks."

"Sara-chan," comes a voice from the kitchen. "Don't say that word."

Sara rolls her eyes and Jin has to bite his cheek as he nods. "Listen to your grandma."

"It looks stupid, though," she says. "It's hard." Jin tilts his head and tries to gauge which way round she drew it. "It would be easier at my desk."

"You have a desk now?" Of course, she's that age.

"Not really," she pouts. "It's just a mess, in my room, so I can't play."

"IKEA," Akira supplies, looking up from his math. "Mom started to put it together and then she got busy."

"Oh," Jin says. This sort of thing normally gets left to him. But of course, Meisa thought he was busy. _Oh._ "Okay," he says to Sara. "So let's clear the mess up together, huh?"

"YES!" she squeals, loud enough that there's a clatter of something in the kitchen.

"Not so loud," he admonishes her.

"Sorry," she says, grinning. "I'll help you, okay?"

"Sure, it's your desk. You have to help."

She wants to bounce away immediately but he reminds her to put her colors back into the box and the half-finished band into the drawer for art.

Akira is giving them a longing look over his shoulder. "How much more math have you got?" Jin asks him.

"Two more equations," Akira says. "Five minutes, if I'm fast."

"Don't rush it, and we'll walk slowly," Jin says.

Kuroki-san steps into the kitchen doorframe, a towel in her hands. "Everything all right?"

"We're just going into Sara's room, to put the desk together," Jin explains, almost bowing again.

"Are you sure you're supposed to do that? My daughter didn't mention it."

"I'm sure she just forgot. She usually leaves this sort of thing for me when I visit." When he's not barred from visiting because he's behind on the money.

It's a weird feeling, asking for permission to put his own daughter's desk together. And he catches Kuroki-san's look, too, the one that skims the kids and says, _All right, I'm not going to argue in front of them_.

"Come on, dad, let's _go_ ," Sara says, pulling at him.

"Well, be careful," Kuroki-san says. It would be easier if he could be mad at her.

Sara's room is the smallest, a little smaller than Jin's apartment, and much more purple. Meisa has stacked the desk intestines in one corner and pulled a blanket over it. The desk, Jin finds, is white and also purple.

It's still the same place they moved into when Akira was three and Meisa pregnant again, not realising that Jin's career was really over, or what Sara's timing would do to Meisa's. It's bigger than Meisa can really afford on her current income, and Jin's current income, but they weren't ready to make the kids feel poor and pull them out of their neighborhood.

It's in Jin's drawer of regrets that they didn't buy. He should have bought her a house, back when he still had money, before the year they spent hoping for Jin to make it with another label and burning through the rest of his savings; before the two that followed when any job in a music company would have done as they burned through hers.

"I can do the little ones!" Sara has darted forward and starts pulling the smaller pieces of painted plywood out of the pile. Jin stops her quickly.

"Wait. We need to see first if it's lying like that for a reason." And might fall on her if anything moves. Also, whether there are instructions.

Meisa has tossed all screws and bolts into an old ice cream tub, with the tools wrapped up in an old towel. "Oookay," Jin says when he finds the instructions. "Let's have a look at this."

Sara has a look with him as he spreads the large sheet out on the floor, but she starts shifting on her feet, impatient with the instructions. "Okay, I think we need to make a space for the big part," Jin says. "And put the blanket under it. Can we do that?"

The fact that Sara's been barred from playing in here helps with the space. Sara conscientiously smooths out the blanket on the floor and Jin lifts the desk top and puts it there, purple-side down.

Akira is just slinking through the door.

"Hey!" Jin says. "More hands, excellent."

"Do we have to use the drill?" Akira says. "Maybe I could hold it."

There was no drill in the towel. "Not sure," Jin says. "But there's a big hammer?"

Akira takes it, looking dubious.

"What do I get?" Sara wants to know.

"You get this." Jin hands her the screwdriver. "Now let's see what we do with all this stuff."

Turns out the hammer isn't needed, it's all about screws. He sets Akira to start on drawers, and holds pieces together so Sara can screw them together. She pouts when she concentrates; Jin could stare at her cute frown forever.

"Everything all right in here?" Kuroki-san is standing in the door, smiling as always. Jin, as always, feels caught, though he's not sure at what. At… drawers?

"We're making progress," he reports. He peers across towards Akira's work, which, yeah, also slow, but as perfect as it gets with these things.

"I'm putting the drawer together," Sara says, trying to hold it up for grandma to see, and Jin makes a quick lunge so it doesn't all fall apart and break the wood.

Kuroki-san's face shows a fleeting frown. "Watch you don't hurt yourself with that screwdriver, little one."

"I'm careful," she says. "I'm almost as good as Akira, right, dad?"

Jin gives her a wide smile. "When you're as old as he, you'll be just as good."

"I'm sure when you're ten you'll be much more interested in making nice omurice," Kuroki-san says brightly.

"Omurice is good, too, right?" Jin says, holding two of the short wooden planks at right angles and pointing where the screw should go. Sara nods, and starts poking at things with the screwdriver. Her own fingers were never in danger.

"Please watch your little sister," Kuroki-san says to Akira.

"Yes, grandma, I'll look out for her," Akira says with his head low, and screws another screw.

Jin gently nudges Sara's flailing arm closer to some actual wood and tries to give Meisa's mother a smile. But there's nothing in her gaze that says it even makes a difference, so he turns back to Sara, to the wood on the floor.

It could be worse. His children could know how much he's bowing and scraping, and how grateful he is he even gets to be here.

His children, by the way, are awesome at furniture construction. They talk weekend plans while their drawers progress. Grandma might take them to a pool, Akira says, which is something neither Jin nor Meisa can do with them, even after all these years. He sounds excited and Jin is happy for them, because he's in Meisa's good graces and there's still Monday and Tuesday, all sorts of time because of Kamenashi's money.

Eventually Sara gets bored. She bounces on her knees and twirls the knobs on the drawers, so that Jin starts to fear for fingers and polished plywood alike. "Hey, Sara," he says. "Think you want to go check what grandma is doing? It's not fair I'm getting all the help."

Sara considers this offer. "Think she'll let me put the sauces on?"

"I don't know," Jin says earnestly. "How about we go ask her?" He stands and scoops her up to relatively little protest, and asks Akira, "Think I can leave you alone with these dangerous tools for five minutes?"

Akira weighs that, and the screwdriver, carefully. "I'll try not to poke out my eyes or slash off my head," he says. "But I'm a boy, so I'm safe, you know?"

Jin nods. "It's steam irons you've got to watch out for. Lethal to our kind."

Akira snorts. Jin feels like a very well-behaved dad for not ruffling his hair again.

Kuroki-san is surprised to find them in her kitchen doorway. "We were thinking," Jin says, in an even more conciliatory voice than usual, "that it's really not fair if I get all the help, and we were wondering if there was anything this young lady could do to be of assistance."

"I'm not a lady, I'm just a girl, dad," Sara complains. "You make me sound like I'm a yakuza."

Jin swallows down the grin. Meisa also has views, and she seems to be passing them on well.

"But soon you'll grow up and be a lady, right?" Kuroki-san takes her small hand and leads her to a little footstool which allows her to use the working surface. "Well, you know how clever ladies make a rice ball so it's got a really nice shape?"

Jin watches for a few seconds. Sara is happy; the trick involves water and very, very clean hands, and Kuroki-san is a kind teacher. She's a good grandma. She loves Meisa, and Jin doesn't even know how often they chipped in with money.

He goes back to make sure that his son hasn't disemboweled himself with a screwdriver.

"Everything okay, yeah?" Akira says when Jin comes back to the room which smells of plastic and of woodchip. He's perceptive, he notices things. Jin sometimes wishes he didn't.

"Yeah, cool," he says and sits down across from him. "Rice ball making for little ladies. How about you?"

"Yeah," Akira says. "But I need your help with those, the holes are weird."

Jin is happy to assist.

"My friend Maya's parents are divorced," Akira says as he tightens the screw that seals the parts properly.

"Are they?"

"Yeah. That's three now, in my class." It sounds just like a report about any random school thing. Jin didn't know he was counting.

"Maya's dad never visits, she says. Not even on Sundays. And Yamada-kun's dad moved to Hiroshima and he has new kids now."

Ouch.

"Well, you'll have to be extra nice to Maya then, because it's terrible when you have a dad who's an asshole," Jin says. "And don't use that word when grandma can hear you, okay?"

That helps; that gets a little grin.

"What about Yamada-kun, does he get to go on trips to Hiroshima to see his dad? Go to the island with the tame deer?"

"I... don't know," Akira says. "Well, I guess he visits, because he says the new kids are weird and stuck up, but the girl's kind of pretty." He gives the finished drawer a thump before he puts it down. "But his dad lives with them now."

"I don't think that means he likes them better," Jin says. "He probably misses Yamada-kun. It'll be good if they can spend nice weekends together."

"Yeah, okay," Akira says, and gives Jin a sneaky look.

"I'm not moving anywhere," Jin says, swiping dust off various edges. He can do sneaky looks too, and he catches Akira rolling his eyes.

"Okay," his son says again, a bit flushed.

Right, change of topic. "I think we're almost done," Jin finds; the top and the sides are connected up, the drawers waiting to be fitted in. "Help me turn it over?"

They set it up carefully, and end up looking at the surface, which shows specks of sawdust and dust and sweaty fingerprints. And is very purple.

"I think the girls should clean it," Akira grins, and Jin grabs him to tickle him. He doesn't even fight all that hard when Jin takes a while to let go.

"Don't say that to your sister," Jin says, though, and means it.

Akira rolls his eyes again. But then he peers up at Jin. "Do you mind if we go to the pool with grandma tomorrow?"

"No, of course not! Why would I mind?"

Akira shrugs. "I don't know."

"I'll see you on Monday after school. You'll have a great time tomorrow," Jin promises.

They're done just in time for lunch, too. There's omurice, and Sara has drawn faces on them with the ketchup. Jin and Grandma get hearts beside the faces, and Akira a spider web.

"Soccer ball!" Sara protests, and Jin quickly says that he knew that straight away. Akira says it's beautiful, and he eats carefully around it, and when they're almost done, his phone beeps.

"That's e-mail from mom," Akira says, and looks first at Jin, then his grandmother, uncertain. It's Kuroki-san who nods.

The e-mail is a picture of Meisa in an amazing blue dress, making a funny face in front of the latest hydrogen Roadster.

"She says she is enjoying the show and all the guests are great and we should behave, and, um," Akira reads.

"And what? And what?"

"She'll give us a kiss when we're asleep," Akira concludes, making a face like Meisa asked him to read out loud about _girls_.

"Your mother works hard," Kuroki-san says without looking at Jin.

"Mom's so pretty," Sara says, but Akira says, "Dad works hard too, he gets really busy."

Kuroki-san glances at Jin, then meticulously scoops up a few grains of rice, balancing them on her spoon. "Well, let's just hope that he continues to find work which allows him to come visit you more often, right?"

For a moment, Jin's stomach flips. That bitch. That bitch and her... her _grammar_. But she didn't do it, she didn't give him away, just showed him that she could.

And he nods. "I hope so too, Kuroki-san, thank you."

His appetite has disappeared even though this is better than anything he manages for himself. He finishes mostly because the kids might notice, and Sara helped make it. At least it gives him something to do while his blood settles.

Such a good boy these days; a good little boy with his thank-yous and apologies. And isn't that a joke. Maybe someone's even laughing.

"May I ask what it is you are currently doing?" she asks after lunch is finished, when the kids are washing their hands in the bathroom. Sara's voice carries from there.

"I'm singing at some private functions." He thought about this, what he'd say, to anybody. It's a legitimate question. "It looks like it'll continue for a while. I'm looking for additional work too, though."

"Good," she says. "That would be appreciated."

"Yes," he says. "I know."

She stacks the plates together and doesn't look at him, and Jin knows it's not his job to interfere. "She could have had a great life," she says, but it's an old cut, because Jin already knows it's true.

 

### Monday

"I thought I'd ask because my papers didn't come back for a month. I hope I'm not inconveniencing you." Jin bows into the phone again.

"We're a small business, right?" Komine-san at the other end says. "Papers, that takes time. I'm sorry, right?"

"Yes, of course. I understand completely."

"So you need them back urgently?"

"No," Jin says quickly. "No, I just meant to ask if you kept them because... if the position was still—"

"Oh," Komine-san says, "I see, I see, but I'm afraid no, we filled it quickly, needed hands for the job, right? Got filled the first week. Just, we're a small business and haven't gotten round to the papers, right?"

"Right," Jin says. "Of course. I'm sorry I bothered you."

He combed his hair before calling, felt like an idiot even then, feels like a bigger one now.

"So, we'll send them back," Komine says. "Next week, I'll make sure."

"Please don't rush, it's not that urgent. You can also keep them and if you need somebody else, you could... I'd be very happy to work in a small company. I've worked in a bento company before, I really enjoyed it."

There's a pause at the other end, and Jin _knows_ it's stupid, knows it doesn't make a difference— "Yes, we got that, just, not that many jobs here, okay? There's other companies, right? Good luck."

Jin drops on the chair and runs a hand through his hair, clutching a fistful. "Thank you very much. I appreciate you taking the time..."

Blah blah blah, polite polite polite, whatever whatever whatever and a few minutes later he is off the phone, and carefully not flinging it at the opposite wall because he can't afford a new one.

Well, fuck.

It's just a job. One of a dozen he's tried for, nothing special. The hourly rate was low anyway. A small business, right?

Except for once he actually had _experience_ , as close as it gets to _qualifications_ , and it's not like he's swimming in those. For filling fucking bento boxes. And still it didn't matter.

He's too old for this shit.

He gets up, then throws himself back down. Not even room enough to pace.

His guitar's right there, because he does practice, he was a good boy again. Here, he can do something useful. He lunges right into it. It takes the focus off the bentos, and phone calls, and another interview he wore the suit to.

That's a very angry hot dog.

The thought makes him snort. Maybe this is some giant joke after all. Jin gets more free time to wait around and Kamenashi gets rampaging hot dogs for his enjoyment.

He takes it slower on the next round. It's a cute little melody, works even without the electronics. He wasn't bad at his job, not always. Not at the music.

He liked that bento job, it was quiet. Until they hired a new girl who knew who Jin Akanishi was and his presence 'created a disturbance.' His life right there, creating disturbances all over the place. Making a fuss.

So now he's singing easy dance tunes in acoustic for Kamenashi, Johnny's drama handler and shining idol.

He wonders if Kamenashi even vaguely knows these songs. Did he still listen to Jin's albums? The first one? The second one, or maybe the last, desperate one, when Jin learned what it costs to rent his own studio and band? Jin didn't keep up with KAT-TUN but that was different, that started to _hurt_.

He hums along with the melody on the next pass, but even unsung the words feel shallow. Maybe it's petty to go for something meaningless like this. Cheating. Last time wasn't safe, but when were they last safe with each other?

The hot dogs fade out and _Care_ is back just like that, _Care_ and Kamenashi measuring Jin's haircut and maybe the quality of Jin's t-shirts. The song nothing but background. He wonders what Kamenashi did to prepare.

Jin lets it run to the end. It's funny. Of all the people who now get to fuck him around, Kamenashi is the only one where he doesn't have to act all polite and grateful for it. It might even creep Kame out if he did.

That thought cracks him up. Maybe that's why he's not more outraged about it all, and why he's sitting here wondering about cheating.

 

### Wednesday

Jin runs his hand over his chin, wondering. He shaved early today, and now it's four, and Kamenashi said 'around five', and... hell, he might as well just give it another quick runaround with the razor, save the time fretting about it stupidly.

It's a warm day and he's got the window as far open as it will go, the curtains drawn. The aircon's too feeble to make any real difference, and Jin knows better than to complain until his rent is bang up to date again. Not that he thinks it'll do much good even then.

At least his room is tidier than it has been in a long time. He imagines there's even less dust dancing about in the sunbeams sneaking past either side of the curtains.

The bathroom has no window but feels even hotter. Stagnant air, musty. He shaves quickly, dabs on the lotion, checks his hair. Needs some attention. But he's got time.

It's been six days. Yesterday was Meisa's last day at the show room and Jin watched the kids, and today he dropped off an application and still had plenty of time to clear away clutter and iron a shirt.

He's humming to himself. Practice, of course. It worked out quite nicely.

He worms out of his t-shirt carefully, no use getting his hair in a mess again, then takes the black shirt from the hanger. Nothing too fancy, not like a suit. Just setting the stage properly for Kamenashi's five minutes, the sing and stare edition. Kamenashi's holding up his end of the deal, and, well.

Jin can only examine himself in pieces in the tiny bathroom mirror, but he thinks that's looking okay.

Closer to five, he shuts the window again. Not performing for the neighborhood here. Then he considers making himself a cup of tea, and laughs when he rejects the idea for fear of messing up his outfit, and then the bell rings.

Jin stands. God he is an idiot. This isn't like the lights coming on across a stadium. He clears his throat and opens the door. "You're on time," he says. He can do approval too.

Kamenashi steps in with all the confidence in the world. His suit is dark grey and his tie has tiny silver turtles on it. Whimsical. "I'm ever so relieved," he says.

"Just don't want you running into the guy who comes for my six o'clock song," Jin says. "He likes to feel special."

Kamenashi gives him a sharp stare, but toes off his second shoe too.

"Whatever," Jin says.

Kamenashi steps in and holds up the plastic bag is carrrying. "Here. It's beer. Try to find room in your overflowing fridge."

Jin takes it. It's heavy. Six bottles, the distinctive Koshihikari summer ale. Kind of a lot for a special slum performance?

"You want one now?" Jin asks belatedly, but Kamenashi shakes his head.

"No. Thank you."

"Nice beer," Jin comments as he straightens from the fridge.

"There was a display, I didn't exactly look around for ages." Kamenashi sounds a little testy. That's right, no comparison shopping for the busy bees.

"Nice tie," Jin nods at him.

Kamenashi's stare goes even testier. "It's a promotion." He looks Jin up and down, too, but says nothing.

Okay, great, Kamenashi's a wanted man. With a turtle tie and a tied tongue.

"Well, I'm glad you could find the time between all your work," Jin says generously.

"Actually I had business in the area again," Kamenashi says. "Though it's always good to see you still have a roof over your head. Your landlord's happier with you now, I take it?"

"Business? Here?"

"A meeting. Not exactly here, but close enough." He leans against the shelf from where he usually listens. Starts listening. Nothing awkward about his stare now, just a flat reminder.

Jin bows his head sarcastically. "My landlord is very pleased, thank you for asking. I'll tell him you asked after his mother and his children, too."

"I bought your last album the other day," Kamenashi says, and actually manages to surprise him. "The last one Johnny paid for, anyway. I wouldn't know where to find your homebaked little gem."

What fucking ever, Kamenashi, Jin thinks through a weird up-down spike of nervousness. But, hey. There's his answer about whether Kamenashi knows the hot dogs. "Great," he says. "Delicious royalties."

"Do you still get any worth mentioning?"

"Well, every once in a while they buy me a Frappucchino." It's true, too. Now and then tiny sums appear in his bank account, and then he can wonder if Eternal got played somewhere. It's usually Eternal. "But I'm sure you know that, seeing as you know everything and everybody."

"You know, it hadn't occurred to me to ask," Kamenashi muses. Right. That's why he turns up out here in the sticks week after week, regular as clockwork, leaving his minions to get themselves in trouble—

"I see the Tegoshi thing blew over," Jin says, and Kamenashi's head comes up at once.

"How would you know that."

"Dude." Jin rolls his eyes. "No screaming headlines?"

"I see," Kamenashi says, sounding very controlled, very measured. And then nothing.

"And?" Jin prompts. "Is that a yes? A no? How many more people did you have to schmooze?"

But Kamenashi's face has shut down.

"What do you care, Akanishi? It was last week, it's not even… hundreds of things have happened since, and what do you care anyway? You're _gone_."

The answer sticks in Jin's throat, when he's not sure if that was insult or accusation. He's not sure Kamenashi knows either.

"So I'm afraid you'll have to buy the gossip in hardcopy like everyone else," Kamenashi says tensely. "If you can afford it."

For a moment they lock eyes. Then Jin turns.

"Well," he says, and picks up the guitar. "Let me get to work on that then."

He needs a moment, to concentrate. This one needs to be _right_.

It's two chords, slow ones, before he knows, knows without looking, that Kame got it. Four when he hears Kame exhale, and misses a note. Damn.

"Interesting choice," Kame says into the silence.

Jin shrugs at him. Hardest part was not making it sound like _Real Face_ , the funeral version. But he put in the work, he's ready. "Do you want to talk or should I play?"

"Play," Kame says, and now he's watching Jin's fingers, Jin can feel that look all through the intro lines, and nothing else is moving. Only the rhythm of the first verse breaks the spell – the look stays where it is but Kame doesn't, slow steps all the way until he's in front of Jin. Well, good to have that dealt with. Jin wouldn't want him to miss out.

And there it is, the touch in his hair, a slow glide of strands through fingers. Tidying and rearranging, tucking some wisps behind his ear. If Jin had left it longer Kamenashi could braid it, that would keep him busy.

But maybe he doesn't want to be kept busy with Jin's hair, because those fingers find his face more quickly this time; temples, pausing for his pulse, and cheekbones, and down to his jaw. Makes it hard to sing. _Giri giri._

Faint smoke hangs in Kamenashi's clothes. Jin has to concentrate, because this is what he does in Kamenashi's five minutes, sing. Kamenashi strokes the base of his neck and Jin's skin feels thin, and for a moment Kamenashi's fingertips skim just inside Jin's shirt. More, when Jin shifts and the shirt falls that way. Five minutes.

He slows down, he feels it getting tricky. Feels Kamenashi in his space and on his neck, making the most of it. Five minutes. Not done yet. The air between them is hot, and Jin's starting to struggle with the lyrics, he never had a head for lyrics.

Kamenashi touches his chin. Not hard enough to mess up the song, but Jin's voice wavers anyway. He keeps on track though, lets Kamenashi's fingers wander over his cheeks, hits the first bar of the chorus gratefully because it gets easier again, and Kame's fingers touch his lips and Jin's voice dies.

The guitar fades at the end of the line. He can see Kame's turtle tie, sharp silver glitter. The only thing he can feel is that touch on his mouth.

He should be out of that chair, demanding explanations, _making a fuss_. Five minutes are up, are up plenty.

He shouldn't be sitting here waiting.

Kame's fingers start to move again. They trace the outline of his upper lip and Jin holds himself so still, he almost trembles. It's quiet. He looks up.

Kame doesn't notice, is absorbed in his study of Jin's lips. Jin hasn't felt so much focus in... he doesn't know. A decade. A shiver works itself up his back, despite the heat. Kame's fingers finish a slow circle, and his thumb comes to rest on Jin's bottom lip.

A pause, Kame thinking. A little swipe, pressing down. In.

Jin's not breathing.

And Kame is aroused again, it's blindingly clear. Why wouldn't he be, watching Jin open up for him.

And finally, he meets Jin's eyes.

"That's two weeks," Jin says. He won't be finishing the song with that voice anyway.

Kame thinks it over, his eyes dark and a flush working up his neck. Jin can smell him, familiar Kame under the different cologne, and that he wants Jin. At least there's that.

"Would have been more a few years ago," Kame says. That's no singing voice either. He trails his thumb down Jin's chin, then wipes the spit off. "But good. Two weeks." He's moving slowly, undoing his belt.

There's a weird moment when Jin thinks the film's going to stop or they're going to disappear in a flash of light, but it passes and they're still there. Kame takes his guitar away, and turns back, and god, he's hard. And _right there_ , and Jin doesn't think and doesn't blink and takes him in.

A bit, at least; feels like a lot. The sharp noise Kame gives sounds like it's plenty for now.

He tries again, a little more. Kame holds still. That's good. He doesn't flinch when Kame's hands come down on his shoulders. His lips are dry.

He pulls back and Kame lets him, enough. Spit, he needs more spit. Then he goes again, goes deeper. Sucks; that's what he's doing. It's a strange taste but not bad. Somewhere he is spinning but this is tight focus. Tight.

"You got the idea?" Kame sounds like he's the one with something in his mouth. It should be funny. Jin makes a sound, does it again, the up and down, or back and forth, best answer he's got, and then Kame's hand comes down lightly on his head.

Oh. So that was Kame _really_ holding back. And he's not now.

It's fast it's— how do you even suck when— he's scared that moment, from how much, too much. Until he gets that this is it, it's not worse. Just fast.

He gives up on sucking, just gives up, keeps it tight, holds it there, lets Kame... lets him. Is there.

Kame's hands slip into his hair. Not harsh, they could be harsher. Just hot and he's sweating and the air is never cool enough, and maybe that's why he doesn't think, maybe this fog makes him dizzy and not scared and trapped.

And then the fog goes shaky, Kame's hands jerking against him and it gets faster and bigger and once or twice too deep, he almost gags, and then there's Kame's muffled voice and the taste too strong in his mouth, Jin shivering as he swallows it down.

The heat is still there, Kame all but bent over him. Jin just sits, lets Kame's dick shrink in his mouth, lets it disappear, lets Kame straighten and put it away.

He watches Kame buckle his belt. Wipes his hand over his mouth. His face is burning.

What do you say now? _That's unexpected_ but when he looks back, only if he's a naive idiot. _I'm not gay_ but they both know that and what difference does that make. _I've never done this before_ and why is that even in his _head_?

"Can I have a beer?" Kame asks, his voice still as useless.

"It's your beer," Jin says. His hands grip the side of the chair, he wants to get up. But Kame is already at the fridge.

He comes back with two bottles. "Here," he says. That's all.

So they drink. It's strong despite the light color, sharp.

"I haven't had Koshihikari in years," Jin says.

"I don't normally drink it either," Kame says, shrugging. "It was there."

Sure. Jin guesses he was there, too.

Kame drinks more; looks at Jin, looks at Jin's mouth. He just came in Jin's mouth. And what does Jin even know about him, when did they last know each other? For a moment Jin stares at a stranger, and his stomach twists and drops.

"I don't like the cover art," Kame says. "On your last album. "

"What?" They both sound like they've been yelling themselves hoarse on a stage.

"It isn't good," Kame says. Kame, who bought his album.

"They didn't want to spend money anymore," Jin shrugs. Just fact.

"Even _then_ I'm sure they could afford something that didn't make you look like the neighborhood creep," Kame says with a hint of sharpness.

"It was urban. Hip-Hop. What do you know about it?"

Kame doesn't lash out. He's thinking, maybe getting his brain back after... "So that _was_ still you. I thought at some point they stopped letting you make decisions."

"I guess it didn't make much of a fucking difference." Kame knows fuck-all about his artistic choices but he does know the important shit. "You know I wasn't getting promotion anymore. The cover was really the least of my problems, but, hey, thanks for your concern. And so timely."

Kame's anger flares cold between them, and then it's hidden just as quickly. "Speaking of tardiness," he says. "I have to leave." He puts his bottle down, the same empty stretch of shelf as last time.

Jin watches him. He moves slowly for a tardy guy. "You haven't even finished that."

"I'm driving, and I have more meetings." He fishes for his wallet, starts to fold bills on top of each other.

Don't think. Don't think _now_. It'll just show on his stupid flaming face. Whatever he'll end up thinking.

"Same time next week?" he says, and only looks at the money when Kame hands it over. There's a tiny hesitation before Kame lets go.

"Thereabouts," he says. "I'll call ahead."

Jin hides the money in his pocket and nods. "Cool."

Kame bends to put on his shoes, then casts a vague glance at the kitchen. "I'll bring beer. No need to let that go flat."

"Gotcha," Jin says. He stands as Kame lets himself out, cuffs straightened, suit immaculate, not a hair out of place. No sign of sweat, no sign of... anything. As if it hadn't happened. Jin feels sticky everywhere.

Sharp, precise footsteps echoing along the landing, and then they're gone.

~

_to be continued_


	5. Week 4

## Week 4

### Sunday

Jin wriggles his foot, grimaces, and slips off the high computer chair to stand behind the little square window in his little square box. His feet get cold when he sits down too long because the little square box has no heating. At three in the morning, it makes a difference even in May. He wonders what they'll do come November.

A double-dot of headlights a few bends away tells him he'll have company again in a minute. Last night, his first night, he was grateful for the warning it gave him. Find the buzzer, make sure the book's open on the right page, check his cap's on straight and his gloves still white. It's not too difficult.

When the truck pulls up, he checks the number on the computer, notes details in the book, salutes the driver with his white gloves, and buzzes him through. Same routine as always. Unless it's a number that's not in the book, but that hasn't happened yet. If the number's not in the book, he can get out of his little box and get in an argument with a truck driver who won't be happy.

Cold feet are probably better.

He just walked into this job, saw the ad hanging in one of the chain's stores, _Security Wanted_. Jin hasn't had much luck with security, not being the bouncer type, but he can sit in a little square box.

Probably helped that truck drivers are less likely to be former KAT-TUN fans. Or maybe he just got lucky.

The huge iron gate rolls shut slowly; Jin has to keep an eye on it until it's fully closed. Exciting.

It's good though. Hourly rate higher than minimum wage, two weekend nights at twelve hours. Almost thirty thousand a week, and he can hope for extra shifts if the weekday guys get sick.

Still less than...

Less than Kame gives him for five – ten, fifteen – minutes. Of whatever. Whatever, is how he's decided to think about it. Decided long before he knew, really, or so it seems.

He's got a little radio. Or he could read his e-mails, if he got any worth speaking of. He twists his foot and fidgets on the chair, heat rising in his face despite the chill.

He looked through his old mails yesterday. When he came home at nine in the morning and was too wired to sleep and too tired not to think of hands in his hair, Kame slick and bitter and filling his mouth. Kame adrift and random after and how he tried to keep it under control and then ran the fuck away.

He wondered if the magical Kamenashi ascendancy had been painted in the sky back then, if the signs were there to see and he'd just missed what they meant.

Pi mentioned him once, in one of his last e-mails. But that was over eight years ago, and just about the gay thing.

He hates dwelling. He hates _missing_ people. People who won't even be the same, not after all these years. What does Jin even know? Jin's in a square little box with white gloves on, and can't just call... _Ueda_ , and chat with him about the good old times oh and by the way when did Kamenashi start running for company president?

He blinks when there's another twin light on the horizon. Work, approaching. Kame's always working. Moving, shaking, barely enough time to unzip his pants.

And lights coming around that corner, again. Cap, gloves. Book.

Smile, you're on.

   

### Monday

The plastic bag clinks against Jin's legs as he stops at the curb.

It's Monday night, he's had a good day's sleep after his shifts, and he's shaved and decently dressed. There's no reason he should feel like a burglar scoping out the residential area.

Maybe it'll help if he stops looking over his shoulder.

He's still not sure how to tackle this, only that trying costs nothing, nothing except the train fare. It would help if he had a better idea what to say. Once upon a time, whining would have worked. But he was cuter then, with a lot less wear and tear. Now he doubts it'll get him past the front door.

Right, pretend to be an adult then. He takes a breath and steps up to the polished row of doorbells, with the security camera glaring down on him. Presses one, and feels his stomach do a little flip.

Which is just ridiculous.

"Yes, hello?" the voice comes, and then, as the video must have registered, " _Akanishi?_ "

*~*~*

The noiseless elevator closes behind him. It's so noiseless it's almost creepy. His beer bottles clink again when he steps out, and now where to... Three doors on the floor, far apart, but one's just a crack open. Hey, Jin was already on camera! And is really not a burglar!

The door opens wider as Jin comes closer. "This is a surprise," Nakamaru says.

"Hey," Jin says, tries to shrug and smile. "You know me..." Like an old language he used to be more fluent in.

Nakamaru looks him over; Jin knows what's happening, because he's doing it too. How much older, did he get fat, how different...

"Well, come in," Nakamaru says, perfectly polite. "Good to see you."

He doesn't look much different. But he was always the one would could pull off the middle-aged respectable look, even when they were twenty. He didn't get fat. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt now, and there's no aircon on in his apartment. It's immaculately tidy. Jin glimpses a home office past a half-open door, and then they're in the lounge.

Years and years ago, they had a party in Nakamaru's old apartment, and Kame was sick in an aquarium that stood in the far corner, and they spent two hours trying to rescue the fish, and they weren't invited back. There's no aquarium here.

It's all sustainable fair trade furniture and Jin gets to sit on a wicker couch that hurts his ass.

"Can I offer you some tea, perhaps?" Nakamaru says.

Jin lifts the bag. "Sorry, I forgot. I brought beer." Kame's beer, beer Kame brought him and they drank after. After Jin had him in his mouth. "Should still be cold. Ish."

For a moment Nakamaru just stares at the bottles, and Jin half expects him to say that he's gone off booze along with energy waste and upholstery, but then takes one of the bottles and twists off the cap.

"Thank you," he says.

"You're welcome." They clink the bottles' butts vaguely.

The first sip is odd, like deja-vu, when he's had plenty of beer in his life. Next time will be more beer. He runs his tongue over his lips, and it's a curious memory.

He starts a bit when Nakamaru says, "So if I may ask, how is your family?"

So they do that for a while. Fortunately Jin's mother is fine, and Meisa is fine, and Nakamaru's parents are in excellent health, and his youngest sister is pregnant but in good health, and his middle sister had to move to Kanazawa, and Jin's daughter is a lovely girl and Jin's son is shy and responsible and top of his class in English. Saying that actually makes Jin smile.

"That is good to hear," Nakamaru says, nodding along. "Very good indeed. I'm glad things are well."

"And what about you," Jin says. "Are you serious with anyone?" He hasn't seen any signs, but then whatever girl Nakamaru would date would probably not leave her bra hanging over the back of the wicker couch. There's nothing else either, no pictures, the place is blank of any... as blank as Nakamaru's face.

"No."

Whoops. That was a bit... Jin drinks his beer and wonders when that became such a loaded question.

But not like he can't sympathize. He makes an apologetic face. "Yeah. Me neither, actually. You know, after... it's been years now."

Nakamaru watches him with that same blank face. "Yes, it must be hard after a divorce, I can imagine," he says after a moment. Drinks some beer too, politely.

This isn't going too well.

"Sorry," Jin says. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just asking, it made sense at the time." Or did Nakamaru become gay at some point, too?

Suddenly Nakamaru sighs, takes a deeper swig of beer, and leans back in the horrible healthy armchair. He looks older and more relaxed at the same time. Studying Jin, he snorts.

"What?"

"My apologies. I just realized you'd probably be the world's least likely undercover reporter."

The back of Jin's neck prickles uncomfortably. He's not undercover, exactly, but his life's definitely taken a turn for unlikely. "Sounds like an epiphany," he mumbles.

"I couldn't help wondering if you might be sniffing around for belated scandal tidbits," Nakamaru says. "But, well. Sorry."

It makes Jin grin despite himself, despite the fact that he _is_ sniffing around, even if it's not quite the same. "Piss off."

Nakamaru shrugs. "You have to admit that a visit from you after all this time is surprising enough to make one look for an explanation." And that, despite the conciliatory smile, is a question.

Jin fiddles with his bottle. "Yeah, I know. I kind of... I've been thinking about the old days more, recently." Completely true, too. "And I was thinking, it's kind of sad we all lost track of each other like that. And, well. I've got more time on my hands than I used to." All of it is true.

Nakamaru purses his considerable lips. "You weren't exactly one for keeping in touch, I would say."

Jin shrugs. "There was a time that was best for everyone, I figured."

Nakamaru knows that's true, too. He also knows that Jin's just shit at it, because he knows Jin, because they go back _years_ , and suddenly Jin feels so glad to see him, him and his stupid ergo-eco couch and his big nose.

"I have to admit you have a point there, " Nakamaru says.

Jin watches him take another deep swig. That bottle's finished. He fishes the next one out of the bottle. "I don't even know what you're doing these days," he says.

Nakamaru takes his beer, and gives him a small smile. Age has made him smoother, too.

"Well, I'm actually using my degree. I'm consulting on environmental issues. Liaising between companies and action groups, that kind of thing. I also," and he bows his head a little, "think I got out with more of a parachute than you did. The last few albums set me up all right."

Yeah. It was a good time for KAT-TUN, they were really ramping it up, one member or the other constantly on TV. Even Jin heard about the ticket prices in 2017. A good time to make tons of money; a weird time to leave.

"You sounded like you were glad to get out, anyway," Jin says. Not prodding or anything. Just fact, right?

But Nakamaru goes silent. Stares at his bottle. It takes a while before he says, "I sure did."

Jin has another drink, trying to shrug off the uncomfortable prickle of embarrassment. He's not good at this. Nakamaru looks closed off, like any moment he'll be asking Jin to leave.

"How long you've been living here?" Jin asks, the first small talk, harmless question that pops into his head, and even _that_ makes suspicion flicker over Nakamaru's face. Damn.

But he says, "I bought it three years ago."

Jin sits still; waits. Looks very innocent, or so he hopes.

Nakamaru's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "You know, I have a nice Cognac, kindly given to me by a valuable Hokkaido client whom I helped contact somebody in the Pyrenees. I haven't yet had an occasion to bring it out. Do you think you might be persuaded to sample some of it?"

Oh yes, Jin might indeed. He's having more booze this week than he did last year, or so it feels. But he fancies some anyway. He's not getting kicked out just yet.

"Thanks," he says when Nakamaru hands him shiny brown liquid in a matte recycled glass.

#### *~*~*

"I could have a dog now," Nakamaru says, gesturing around. He leans his head back, his legs sprawling. "But, I don't know." He upends his glass with the delicious congnac and sighs. "Opinions on the appropriateness of pets are very divided in the ecological community, you know. It's hard…"

"I couldn't," Jin says. "My place is a rathole."

Nakamaru laughs quietly. "Rats make very good pets, despite their reputation. They're clean, intelligent..." Then he blinks. "I'm very sorry, that was insensitive."

"No problem," Jin says, having a tiny sip. He holds up the bottle questioningly.

"Oh, all right," Nakamaru says, watching the gold drop into his glass. It's his fourth. He squints. "Of course, rats would go in a cage. Which is even more of a concern, when you think about it."

"Well, pets are nice," Jin says. He's at least got more of an opinion on this than on the organic spirits from organic grapes in organic fields they discussed over glasses one through three. He counted. "My daughter also tells me rats are cute."

"They're also actively prosocial," Nakamaru says, taking another sip. "In experiments, they have demonstrated altruistic behavior to other rats."

"Some humans could learn from that," Jin says, lightly, just to get them back on the track of actual, you know, life.

"That is unfortunately very true." A bigger sip, and then he's looking into his glass again. Jin's glass is almost empty, too; he tried to stay sober but it didn't work, was too slow. So he goes for a refill and tops Nakamaru up again too.

"But then again," Nakamaru says, "on the other side of the scale you get ducks. Very unpleasant flosses. I mean, fellows."

Jin giggles. The booze. Okay, ducks. It's inconvenient but it's funny.

He tries to stay focused through ducks and their perversions. They can't be doing too bad if Nakamaru's landed at the pervy stuff.

"That swan," Nakamaru sighs. "I think... it was after my ribbons."

"Your ribbons?" Jin pictures ponies. No, that can't be right.

"Uniform jacket," Nakamaru says. His eyes are a little glassy. "You know. It was... wow..." He makes an astonished face. "I don't remember why I was wearing it."

"Do you still collect that stuff?" Jin asks.

"Not really," Nakamaru says. "Well, sometimes. But for a while, I had too many other things on my mind. And I was no longer wearing them at concerts. I mean, I had no concerts. Because of... and didn't want to be noticed in public… it was all sad. And I got prara— paranoid too, so, sure you understand..." He trails off.

It's a heavy silence, full of old... stuff. And cognac vapour. "I didn't think I'd miss it," Jin says. Concerts. Lights. Maybe the cognac was a bad idea. "Just, the noise. The life."

Nakamaru meets his eyes, and through the soft focus nostalgia comes a more awake stare. Curiosity. "I read about your divorce," he says. "I'm very sorry."

"Yeah, well." Jin shrugs and refills Nakamaru's glass.

"What happened? Did you have an affair?"

"No!" Why on earth would he? But his outrage dies down quickly when it seems Nakamaru isn't even embarrassed.

"Did she?"

"No." He's still got all the knee-jerk sulking, shutting down, _not your business_ reflexes. But then he takes a breath. You don't get something for nothing, and memory lane isn't a one way street. "No, it was… it just didn't work. It was complicated."

"Because you got fired?"

Jin shrugs again. "That didn't help." It wasn't the reason. But all the reasons started there. "I guess we were great when it was all going okay. We just weren't strong enough for the really shitty parts."

Shitty parts like Jin out of work for months, Jin and Akira and the baby at home, Meisa working when she could, struggling in a business not mindful of mothers with a family.

He has a sip of the booze and it burns, burns deep. God, he can't get drunk. Not _more_ drunk. But it burns.

"I'm sorry," Nakamaru says again.

"She married… I think she married a guy she could share stuff with." He's never told this to anyone, and he's not sure he's putting it right, but Nakamaru looks like something makes sense. "When we both worked, and we both looked after the kids… that was great, she was happy I wanted to change diapers. I just don't think she was ready to feel like the guy in the household quite so much."

He's thought about it a lot. And there was more to it, things like the kids always coming to _him_ when they wanted stuff, Jin taking their side too much, _I don't want to be bad evil mom all the time_. She was crying and angry when she flung that at him. It still hurts him now, because she's a great mom.

"And the shittier it got, the more I spent time with the kids, that was something I was good at and I loved it. But she had to deal with me being down and angry and useless while the kids were all, Daddy is the greatest…"

He tried to make up for it, but in the end the more he tried to please her, the worse it got. Nobody wants to fuck the pathetic guy, and nobody needs him hanging around the house either.

"That sounds very hard," Nakamaru says in a quiet voice, still and attentive, thinking through half a bottle of golden booze. Jin takes a deep, deep breath. "We all knew you would make a great father, so it's very sad when that… gets complicated."

It was such a horrible time. He'd never thought it could get any worse. He didn't think he'd get this much into his sad sorry life tonight either, but turns out he doesn't really mind.

"She said I cared so much more about the kids than the marriage," he says. "And she was right, and it wasn't fair, and I wish I'd paid more attention. I wish I'd done a lot of things differently."

Nakamaru takes a breath almost as deep as Jin's. "Don't we all."

Indeed.

"But you are in touch with your family now, are you not? It would be…" He looks genuinely worried for Jin and Jin feels touched.

"I see them," Jin says. When he can, when he has work. "Meisa's good. We're not at war or anything."

Nakamaru looks relieved.

"Are you in touch with the others?" Jin asks, perfectly easy, and it's clear enough who he means.

Nakamaru's face looks pinched. "No. Given the manner of my departure…"

Jin holds his breath and hopes Nakamaru doesn't see. "I admit I'm curious what really happened," he says. "I mean, what _really_ happened."

Nakamaru blinks at him. Then he breaks into the widest, dorkiest grin. "I bet you are." But he's not just drunk. It's their history, and Jin's got a place in it; a right to it.

"It seemed pretty out of the blue. And I caught some of it, but, you know. That was when things were so bad with Meisa, right before she kicked me out, and I was a mess. I didn't know the details."

Nakamaru looks at him owlishly. "No," he says, slowly. "I guess that's... You wouldn't know the details, nobody knew the details."

That sounds more worrying than Jin had even thought. But surely Kame didn't... "It's just..." He's looking for words. "You know Kamenashi and me, we had our issues. But for him to be the reason that you quit at a time like that..." His tongue's a little thick but the fact that he's getting places, making progress, helps like a cup of strong coffee.

"What, you didn't buy the 'strained working atmosphere' and the 'stifling ambition'?" Nakamaru's eyebrows rise high, waggle tipsily. "And what else was it, oh, 'lack of integrity', yes."

"But he's always been a bossy little bitch, not like that was news," Jin says, the memory bright and sharp. "He was always... burning."

Nakamaru laughs quietly into his glass. "Hmmmm," he says. And then he empties it. "Yeah. I know. We know." He sighs and the impossible chair creaks as he sprawls more comfortably. "No, all that was just the official show. I got myself into a slightly unfat— unfortunate situation, and it was..." He takes a breath, focusing. "It was suggested to me that it would be better for me on a general level if I withdrew from KAT-TUN and the agency." He smirks proudly at having gotten that out in one go. But Jin's blinking, and maybe he's understanding wrong.

"Kame forced you out?"

"No. Not him."

"Then who? Management? Johnny?"

"Not Johnny," Nakamaru says. There's something glazed to his stare. "But something like that, yes."

"I didn't remember anything in the papers..." Though they've established Jin was busy getting kicked out by his wife and being unemployed, so who knows.

"Because I went along with the suggestion." His hands, elegant as always, are unsteady as he pours them both another drink. "I guess I shouldn't even be telling you this."

Jin sips carefully, wishing he had actual coffee. This is starting to freak him out. "What did you actually do?"

Nakamaru gulps his down, Jin's not even prodding anymore. "I met a girl."

Jin just stares. It can't be. It can't be that fucking same story, not six years after Jin, with the fans old enough to deal and KAT-TUN giving Arashi a run for their money. That is just fucking stupid.

Nakamaru stares right back, like he didn't even notice the parallel. "She was great. And exciting. And we did exciting things. Some of them, I shouldn't have been doing."

Shit. Not even Jin— this feels bad. "I guess... that wasn't bungee jumping," he says; tries a smile.

"Cocaine," Nakamaru says. He doesn't look that drunk now. "Not often. But somehow someone at the agency heard about it."

And made him resign. And made him— wait a minute. "So what was all that stuff about Kame? What did he do?"

It's the first time Nakamaru looks as awkwardly embarrassed as Jin remembers him. "He did nothing."

"Nothing," Jin echoes.

"I mean, nothing wrong," Nakamaru says quickly. He's flushed red.

"Okay," Jin says, but he still doesn't get it, this isn't getting any less creepy.

"Well. I suppose..." Nakamaru takes a deep breath, focusing; blinking. "Do you know how Johnny's been doing, Akanishi?"

"No," Jin says, and what does that have to do with what Kame did or didn't do? "He's old, I guess."

"Old," Nakamaru says. "And not well. He started to need... help. And Kamenashi stepped right up, and some people didn't like that."

And down goes the cognac.

"He... you... you were told to say it was his fault?"

"It was suggested, too." He breathes out heavily, full of bitterness, but when he looks at Jin there's a blurry sort of relief. "I hated doing it. It was the worst lie, it was... It was just a lie." He shrugs. "I'm sorry, Jin."

Jin nods. He's not here to judge. His brain's still catching up anyway.

"If I'd gone down, with what she knew, KAT-TUN would have taken a hit anyway. I saw no other way."

"Does Kame know about this?"

Nakamaru gives a sloppy shrug. "I don't know what he's guessed at by now. And to be perfectly honest, I don't know if it matters. It was just one step of many in a long game."

"A game?" This is getting bizarre, it's getting... "Wait, who's 'she'?"

Nakamaru squints at him. "Pardon me for saying so, but you really have lost the plot, haven't you?"

"Dude, I haven't talked to anyone about this shit in years!"

Nakamaru leans back with the glass held to his chest, his breaths deepening. "Neither have I."

Yeah, Jin can see that. Why you'd keep that quiet, why it's dangerous. Drugs. Long ago. It probably helps that Jin matters so absolutely not at all.

"So Julie tried to take over the company?" Jin wants to get that straight, really straight.

"Tried," Nakamaru says airily, "is trying. She'd have got it, except she mismanaged KAT-TUN, NEWS… the old Johnny side. I think that's… Kame was pissed. He was pissed _all_ the time." He laughs, fading out quickly. "But I stopped keeping track. I'm out of the loop too nowadays, you see."

"So now Kame's in her way." Boy, he didn't even mean that president thing.

"Precisely."

"What happened to the girl?"

It goes quiet. Nakamaru blinks, and for a moment he's looking through Jin.

"She dumped me. I assume she was more interested in dating an idol than in a part-time consultant who's scared to be seen with a drink in public."

One of those. "I'm sorry," Jin says. At least he got a family out of the ruin of his career, no matter how complicated even that is, these days. "That's all… that sucks."

"Long time ago now," Nakamaru says. But he's not smiling. And there's no-one now, Jin thinks. But then he's got no time to think more because the bottle is there again, filling his glass. Jin will have such a hangover tomorrow. And will be lucky if he finds the train.

They toast each other anyway. How often can you get plastered together and compare notes on how to get kicked out of a band?

  

### Wednesday

Oh, shut _up_.

The noise is insistent, annoying, shut up Jin's nice and warm—

He jumps wide awake. Middle of the night, the kids— he fumbles around, finds his jeans, finds the pocket, shit the _other_ pocket.

It's light outside. Okay. "'lo?"

"Are you at home today?"

Kamenashi. Not kids in the hospital, or Meisa in a car accident. "What?"

"Are you at home today?"

Jin squeezes his eyes shut, then blinks. He rolls on his back. "What? Why?"

There's a pause. Jin's brain cells are assembling.

"I am in your area later today," Kamenashi says, in a very clipped voice. "I want to know if you are, in general, at home this afternoon."

"Uh, yeah," Jin says. "I didn't get any shifts, I'm home..."

"Shifts? What— Never mind. I'll call after my business is done. Later." And he's gone.

Jin checks the time on his phone. Nine thirty. Okay, can't really complain about that. Normal people, blah blah blah.

Jin being what he is, he could roll back over and no one's going to be the wiser.

Then he lies there and stares at the ceiling, and thinks that later today, Kame is coming over.

Well. Well, well.

*~*~*

Half an hour later he's sitting at his table, showered and dressed, with his tab on and a steaming cup of coffee. His brain couldn't be convinced of more sleep.

No, his brain wanted to know what song to prepare, and when his brain tried to suggest one, his brain insisted that it was a waste of time anyway, since Kamenashi isn't coming for Jin's _song_.

His brain should make up its mind.

Coffee might help with that. And also, he feels more with it when he's on his feet and dressed. More like somebody who makes decisions. Decisions like, what if his brain is right?

He notices he's licking his lips again. Sighs impatiently at himself.

Not the end of the world. Short, too. But he's sure he should object to a repeat. Kamenashi caught him by surprise, then, but now he's got plenty of time to decide just how many ways he's not that low.

The tablet's finally sorted itself out. Updating the synth software last night took forever. He starts it up, lets the couple of phrases he saved play back to him. No words yet, just a little tune. But he likes it. It's been a long time since the music came for him.

He hums those two lines again and gets his guitar, gets settled. Spends ten minutes bugged by a sequence he kind of likes but wonders if he's heard before in other people's songs. Then nearly drops the guitar when there's a knock on the door.

_Fuck._ Afternoon, that jerk said _afternoon_. Jin whips his head around and feels ridiculous, like a kid caught leaving a mess.

There's another knock, a more hesitant one. Jin goes and flings the door open, won't do to have the neighbors—

Oh, neighbor, singular. From upstairs.

Of course, Kame is in a meeting, Kame said he'd call.

Her polite smile is wavering by the time Jin's finally got his face under control. He bows deep. "Sorry for the wait, I was..." He can't quite say _composing_ yet. "Good morning."

"Hello, Akanishi-san, it's so good to catch you."

Yeah, like Jin's not around most days. He bows a little again.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your morning too much?" she asks, for extra politeness that concerns him more than anything.

"No, no, not at all." Okay, what does she want? An egg?

"You'll have to forgive me, I'd been hoping to catch you and Yubawara-san just mentioned this might be a good time to see you to ask if you have possibly, maybe remembered about our neighborhood association?"

Her smile gets even wider, maybe to make up for the frozen rictus that Jin feels has settled on his own face. Fucking Yubawara. Most of last week's money went to rent, no wonder he spread the news, it must have broken his sad boring brain that Jin managed more than a one-off windfall.

"I, uh." He bows. It buys him time. "I see." It's not that much. But it was the first thing he stopped paying, and he doesn't know what she wants, arrears or just for him to start paying again from now. "It is true that I just managed to find weekend employment."

"My sincere congratulations," she says heartily. "It's so difficult in these times."

"Thank you," Jin says, because that's what one says when people come round one's door to ask for money and one has to explain about one's employment status and they pretend to care. "So I would be happy to start paying my dues again. Thank you so much for your forbearance in the last year." And he bows again.

He gets his wallet, fast is good; hopes she doesn't peer in with his futon still lying there. He shakes out some coins and hopes he still knows the correct amount. He's got his best smile on for her, and another apology, and, "I am sorry, I will not be so forgetful next month." His own little carrot, if she's not pushy enough to point out the arrears.

She's not. Her carefully made-up face smiles appropriately, and she takes his money and his weaseling ways, probably thinking she'd never expected to get anything out of Jin anyway. He sends her off with another bow and she seems happy to assume he'll be a better neighborhood citizen in the future, even if she didn't get all the cash she came for.

He hates this fucking balancing act. More ways this shit creeps up on him and chatters in the corners of his brain, disturbing his calm morning of coffee, composing and cock contemplation.

He stashes his wallet in the drawer. It's still got two of Kame's notes in it, small ones. He wasn't even embarrassed, paying his rent with it. Maybe he should be, the way he should tell Kame to fuck off. But then who's to care where he puts his mouth these days.

Kame cared, he liked it. And that part was easy, served straight-up, Kame wanted him and took him and it's been a long time since he's been wanted.

He stares out of the window, at bright and fuzzy sky. Wonders if Kame is used to it now, just taking what he wants. Or if that only works on guys like Jin. Guys at the end of a short, slippery rope.

Then he imagines all those slippery rope guys, dangling there and calling Kame a fucktard for his trouble, and he laughs.

#### *~*~*

Kame's meeting is over by four. "I'll be there in twenty," he says, and he's there in twenty-five.

Jin has his shirt on and the futon tucked away, and ants crawling under his skin. "Hi," he says. "Good meeting?"

Kame considers that, his eyes dark and on nothing. "As good as could be expected," he judges, in a tone Jin knows, a tone that says someone or something wasn't quite up to scratch.

"Anyone interesting?"

Now Kame looks at him, but only briefly, before taking another inventory of Jin's four walls and the roof over his head. "Interesting to me," he says. "Not interesting to you." He holds out the expected shopping bag. It's a different suit again, Jin thinks, but somehow they all blur into one, along with the face that's blank as a page.

"Wow, you've really put me in my place there," Jin says. His hands are the worst, with the ants. But he takes the beer and stashes it away. Six again.

"So," Kame says. Not wasting time. "What did you pick?"

But Jin's thought a thing or two about wasting time, too. "Nothing. I thought we'd skip to the point?" And he drops himself in the chair, because the chair is important, and spreads out his hands, and for a moment he wants to laugh because what is he doing, trying to sell Kame a fish?

Kame has gone still.

And Jin _knows_ his body language, has known it for _ever_ , and he can tell Kame's on the point of turning right around and walking out and what the fuck, did he need the singing for foreplay, can't he do it without?

"Don't mess with me," Kame says, slowly. "You'd lose."

What, what the _fuck_ , Jin thinks. It gives him a shiver anyway. "You've got a problem?" he says.

Kame looks him over again. Jin _is_ the fish. It's not a good feeling.

"No," Kame decides at last. "You have a point." And he steps up fast and his hands are in Jin's hair, urgent strokes. "I like your voice. I have always liked your voice. But this..."

He's cupped Jin's face between his hands now. They're gentle, tipping his chin up until he's got to meet Kame's eyes, but if Jin tried to move, he thinks they could crush him.

"...this is better."

Kame lets go. Undoes his belt, undoes his fly.

Brings it out. Half hard, not like last time, but growing, and what's a blur from last time takes forever. Ants all over when this time it's Jin who has to move, bend his neck, until he has a cock in his mouth.

No force this time and no speed. Space, and he's... supposed to do stuff with it. Lean forward, take it deeper, suck...

The skin's smooth, and dry. He pulls back, pulls off to lick his lips. Tries again; sucks because that was the plan, and it thickens in his mouth and he hears Kame exhale.

Jin can't see him. You can't look up when you're sucking a guy and thinking about your tongue, thinking what next, thinking about lips and no teeth, he's got too many thoughts and for the first time thinks what the hell is he doing, what does he _look_ like.

He goes down again, far, coarse hair right in front of him and pressure at the back of his throat. Hot. Is Kamenashi watching him? He hears a wet sucking sound from his own mouth, and it's cold on his neck and then Kame's hands are back in his hair. "Yes," he says.

Jin breathes out harshly, hoarse. And Kame steps in, just enough, and the next slide is all Kame's hips, deep and hard, and the end of complicated.

Kame whispers something, makes a fist in Jin's hair and it's stable, steady, and Jin can close his eyes when the air is hot around his face. Don't bite, don't gag, let him take, that's all he's got to do.

Won't last long, though he forgets it between fast and too much and Kame everywhere, and he's got to remember not to struggle. Just hold still and not mind, and it's rough jerks at the end and sweat in his nose, and then come in his mouth.

Same as then, warm and too thick, too much, but he takes it all anyway, tastes it more when he takes a stuttering breath. Kame is still holding on.

Finally he sighs, and the grip in Jin's hair loosens. He covers his cock as he pulls it out, a casual brush over Jin's bottom lip with the tip of his thumb, 'see you next week' or something.

"Yes," Kame says. "Good."

Takes Jin a moment to place that. Trust Kame to pick arguments up right where they left them, after coming his brains out.

He needs more air, but he tries not to look it. He can still taste the whole thing, all around his mouth. He wants a drink, and what's he waiting for and watching Kame, he should just get up.

Kame has tucked in the tuckable and straightened the straightable, and apart from the color of his face, you wouldn't know what he's been up to. _What,_ his stare seems to say, which is a joke, maybe.

Eventually Jin pushes himself out the chair. His muscles feel stiff like he's been sitting there forever, like he grew old giving blow jobs to Kamenashi. "The usual, too?" he asks, heading for the fridge.

"Please," Kame says, and, "thank you," when Jin hands him the bottle.

Jin decides he doesn't give a fuck, wipes his face with his sleeve, and has a long, long swallow of beer.

He doesn't sit down in that chair again. They stand, a little awkwardly, Kame against his usual shelf and Jin against the kitchen sink.

"Sorry if I woke you up earlier," Kame says. "I didn't know it was still morning. I'll be more careful."

Jin shrugs. "I don't keep such regular hours. No problem."

"You said something about shifts?"

Jin drinks more, doesn't care. "Security job, weekends. Night shift. I let trucks in and out of the supermarket depot, very exciting. Keeper of the Gates." He twirls his bottle and catches the tail end of Kame's fading frown.

"God, Jin."

"Shut up. Don't you dare." He doesn't care. Doesn't give a _shit_. "What _are_ you doing in my neighborhood? What sort of _meeting_ are you having here?"

"Believe it or not," Kame says, and at least he drop-kicked the pity act as fast as he put it on. "Some companies actually have offices not too far from here. Standard negotiations, though. Wouldn't mean anything to you." Only half as condescending as it could be, how cute.

Kame puts the half-drunk beer on the shelf behind him, and goes for his jacket, and for a second Jin thinks this is it, done for the week, running away again. But Kame just reaches into one pocket. Pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

"You can't smoke in here." No way. That'd be the day.

Kame looks around with a doubtful face. "This is a non-smoking building?"

"My _apartment_ is non-smoking." No way is he letting some entitled idol stink up his stuff. The rules are for everybody.

Kame looks at him like somebody just informed him the earth is flat and Johnny fallible after all. "You're kidding me."

"I'm serious. You want to smoke, you do it outside. I can give you a _hat_."

"This is a joke, right? Since when are _you_ on the anti-smoking train?" He actually still taps out a cigarette.

"I have kids," Jin says. "And you can't smoke in here." For a messy moment, he thinks Kame will push it. But then he sorts the cigarette back neatly and lets his hands sink.

"You can smoke on the landing if it's urgent," Jin concedes.

"No, thanks." Kame shrugs easily and leans back against his shelf. "I don't really need to look like I reside here."

He's just a jerk, and Jin rolls his eyes. "Fine. Don't blame me when you get the jitters."

"It's under control, thank you," Kame says, and yeah, of course it is. It's Kame. And strangely quiet, and he thinks Kame is smiling under a whole lot of blasé and look-how-I-don't-care and coolest-guy-to-ever-lean-on-your-shelf-really.

"You'd have looked cute in a hat," Jin says, and finishes his beer. This is better.

Kame nods, like that is understood.

"How are your kids?" he asks, and call Jin weird but he can still faintly taste the guy through the Asahi, he doesn't want to talk kids right now.

"Fine," he says. "Thanks. How are the dogs?"

And god, wow. Kame's face just softens. "Okay, right now. Jelly was sick with some immune thing for a while, but the latest pills are working. We have to keep the puppy away from her, though, he's just too bouncy for an old lady."

"Poor Jelly." She must be so old now. "And Ran-chan?"

Kame blinks. "She... It's been a few years..."

Oh. "Shit, sorry." Shit. "I just... yeah. Maru too, you know?" He hasn't thought of it in years.

"Yes, actually I know," Kame says, but it doesn't sound sharp. "I spoke with your mother, remember? I'm sorry."

Yeah.

They drink more beer, until Kame checks his bottle, about one third full, and puts it down with an air of finality.

"I should get going," he says.

"You didn't finish it again," Jin protests. "I'm not so poor you have to leave me leftovers."

"I'm driving," Kame says. "Even this is... risky."

"Oh, true, I almost forgot," Jin says. "The minute you're out of here I've got to call the agency and tell them you're ripe for a scandal."

And he'd swear, Kame goes grey. And still, but it only lasts a moment, and then he has another long gulp.

"You'd make some people's day," he says.

"Sharks, huh?" Jin suspects he's trespassing, but what the hell. His apartment. His mouth.

"Big sharks." Kame seems to find his peeling wallpaper interesting. "Big teeth."

"Always swimming," Jin says. Akira was big into sharks at some point, and Jin got an education along with the teeth trauma. "Explains your hours."

Kame snorts, but leaves it at that.

"How are the guys?" The ones that are left. He's not going to mention Nakamaru. "How's Koki?"

Kame's smile turns to a frown. "Koki? Why?"

"Hey, I'm interested. Your dogs, your sharks, your other pets..." Koki threw himself at Kame over a decade ago and somehow he stuck. Like cuddly fungus, playing tough unless he's draped all over Kame. Given the way things went, it's a wonder they never fucked, a nice little bonus for Kame-chan.

Okay, there's a weird, distracting image, and the weirder thought that he doesn't even _know_.

"Koki's fine," Kame says, very neutrally.

O...kay.

For a moment, Jin's brain spins on possibilities. They did, broke up, this was a bad question. They didn't, Kame's pining, oh hell no way. They did, they are, Kame is... fucking Jin on the side, this isn't just about sharks, and Jin should kick him out right the fuck now and— fuck no, not Koki, surely.

"You're not fucking Koki, right?"

"What?" Kame stares at him like he dropped in through the roof, which Jin guesses is an answer. All righty.

He shrugs casually. "I'm sure he'd let you."

But Kame's face is smoothing over, his whole body drawing back into the Kamenashi Kazuya, Master of the Universe thing. "I'm sure he has other sources of income."

Fuck him. Jin doesn't even _care_. But it pools like acid in his mouth, the jobs and Kame in his suit and his fucked up hole of an apartment. "Yeah, you all sucked your dicks years ago, Johnny and the senpai, day and night and smile and say thank you and was it good for you sir..."

Kame's eyes are flaring, hot ice, Jin stops and he can't look away. "You shut your big mouth or I'll shut it for you."

His mouth, which is dry and wordless suddenly. His head is so blank, he needs a moment. "Sore spot?" he tries, though it sounds weak. "Don't worry, they all got value for money."

"If you think you can be proud of yourself..." Kame takes a step closer, but Jin just stands rooted. "If you're proud of your _integrity_ , you're even dumber than I thought."

"Great," Jin says, giddy with coming to his senses. "Why are you talking to me then, if I'm so dumb?"

Kame shrugs tersely. "I figured someone's got to pay your rent. I heard your wife was out of cash this week."

"Leave her out of this, you asshole!"

"You got her into this. Some prize you were."

Jin wants to kick him. Pound the smug superiority right out of him. But you can do that when you're sixteen and not a loser, not when you're pushing forty and in trouble with everyone in the whole fucking wide world. "Well, aren't you glad I was out of your hair then."

Kame seems undecided whether to laugh or cry or toss him cash for better lines. "Oh, Jin."

"Shut up," Jin says hoarsely. "Drink your beer." He empties his own, and he kind of wants another, because his face is hot. But he doesn't want to be some lonely guy with a beer bottle in about three minutes.

"So, Koki," he says, and watches Kame. "He's fine?"

Kame gets the sharp look about him again, but all he says is, "Like I said. He's fine."

"He'd be sad to hear you speak so coldly of him."

"Well, I guess it's his luck he'll never know because nobody gives a shit about you anymore."

Swearing, Jin notes. It kind of makes him feel better.

"So what's your next meeting?" he asks. "If it's not national security, alien invasion secret."

Kame drinks at his beer, what little is left of it. Bastard actually thinks about it. "Concert budgets," he says. "Tour plans."

"You toured in March." Even Jin remembers the promotion, impossible to miss.

"Not our tour," Kame says, and then his beer is gone and the time is up.

~

_to be continued_  


	6. Week 4½

## Week 4½

### Thursday

The phone rings on Thursday at three in the afternoon. He doesn't start, or flinch. It could be anything, after all.

It's better than anything, it's work. "I am sorry to trouble you at short notice, Akanishi-san, one of our patrolmen has taken ill and is in the hospital. Could you take his shift tonight from six?"

Can Jin ever.

He gets sweaty cycling there, the faintest breeze on his skin, and the shift manager greets him with a breath of relief. They _called_ Jin. Because he's proved himself at sitting in a box, but it feels good anyway, Jin's not going to poke at that.

The manager explains the job, not actually his little box but rounds on the overnight parking lot, and maybe it'll get dark and a bit creepy, but he'll deal.

He gets time to change into his uniform, freshly washed and so stiff, he feels naked inside it. Maybe he is, technically. The ride must have woken him up. He's taking the kids on Saturday and this will fuck up his sleep, but Jin slept for two in the last year, and he's decided he can sleep whenever.

He even gets keys, to let any drivers arriving at night into the break room, though there's also a second guy in a second box for that. Apparently it's important you don't leave night drivers stuck in the parking lot for whatever reason.

The job's not much harder than the little box, really. The walking is nice, especially once it's cooler. No radio, but he's humming to himself.

Things are looking up. Still a crap job, sure, and he'll still be looking for better. But it's a job and he's... he's feeling good.

And why not.

He counts all the trucks on his third round. On his fourth he starts to imagine where they've been. All over Japan, all along pretty coastal roads. Or just in one dull parking lot after the other and lots of traffic jams.

Once it's fully dark he puts his flashlight on. The guy from the second little box waves at him on one round and hands him a cup of coffee. It's nice, having a colleague, Jin thinks as he carries the delicious scent with him around the trucks.

And the night air on his skin feels good, too, the soft breeze blowing through his hair feels like fingers, like...

Oh, whatever. It feels good. And why not.

 

### Saturday

"If you had to run away from a volcano, what would you take with you?"

Akira bumps into Jin for emphasis, though earlier he twisted his sweaty hand out of Jin's the moment Jin let him.

Volcanoes. Why can't his son be into cars, or girl bands?

"You mean, pack?" Jin asks.

Akira nods, squinting up at him against the sun. He wanted to wear sunglasses just like Jin, but Jin and Meisa agreed they looked ridiculous on a ten-year-old schoolboy. Sara, on whom Jin secretly finds them adorable, had to relinquish hers too. Meisa got so fed up with the arguing, she told them to go get their ice cream in America and not come back to bother her before university.

Jin tries to think about volcanoes. It's sweltering out here, which makes the thinking even more uncomfortable. "How much time do I have?"

The queue shuffles forward. They have _loads_ of time here.

"Well," Akira says knowledgeably. "You might have days if you interpret the signs right. Earthquakes and noise and smoke, you know."

Earthquakes. Cheery.

"But let's assume you really have to leave in a hurry, you can't just load a whole truck."

"I'd take Mom and Dad and Momo and my Wii," Sara says.

"I didn't ask _you_."

"Mom can drive the car and Dad carries the Wii and I carry Momo," Sara elaborates.

"What about your brother, huh?" Jin asks her.

Sara considers that as they move another couple of steps. In five minutes, they might get to a shady bit. In half an hour, they may reach the benches set out for queueing customers. "Well, he can walk, right? So I don't have to take him."

"Hey, _dad_ ," Akira says. "That was my question!"

"Yes, sorry, I'm thinking."

"You won't have that much time to think when there's a volcano erupting," his smartass son points out. A shame glaring doesn't work well behind sunglasses.

"I'd take all the money," Jin says slowly. What he'd really do is take the phone, to be able to check they're okay, to find them, because they wouldn't be together because he's a loser, right? "So we could keep buying gas so we could keep driving. And our passports. And your favorite snacks, and plenty of Mom's diet drink because you know what she gets like when she's hungry."

And he'd need the phone even if they were together, to find... out what else was going on.

"That's not bad," Akira says magnanimously. "But you're not really well-prepared if anything else goes wrong."

"All right, what would you take?" Jin asks. Clearly Akira has given this more thought, and isn't stuck on his phone and lines being down. "What should we take?"

"We'd take the earthquake kit first of all," Akira says. "That's got the food, blankets, light, gloves, masks, water treatment tabs, and the first aid stuff, all right there. And then we need to consider the lava, right? It's going to be hot, so the tyres of the car will wear down more quickly, so we'll need spare puncture repair kits."

Jin nods. "I see. I hadn't thought of that." The kid with the family in front of them is peering around her mother's neck at Akira.

"We'll have to drive really fast anyway," Akira says, "because lava is fast. So it's important that the tyres are okay."

"Mom doesn't like it if we drive fast," Sara says. "And there are speed limits on the expressway."

"The police is going to be busy, though. And you have to get away before all the roads get clogged up." Akira's cheeks are a little blotched, the way he gets when a story is very exciting. "Though, of course, you can still get hit by flying rocks and stuff. Then you're stuck."

Or dead, Jin thinks, but the little girl in front of them is starting to look intimidated as it is.

"We'll just have to leave early," he says. "And with how much you know, we'll sure get warning long before everybody else."

"Yeah." When he explains quite seriously about the warning message he has composed, which will go out to his friends at the press of a button on his phone, Jin thinks that even the little girl's mother is starting to look spooked. She's probably just not used to people being that thorough. Sara is, and is unimpressed and a little bored.

"How much longer do we have to stand here?"

"Hey, I told you it was going to be a queue to the moon, princess. That's why you wanted to come, right? Because everybody else comes?"

"They say it's _really good_ ice cream! And all different kinds. And they look like _fruit_ and _houses_." The excitement seems to have distracted her from her annoyance with the queue.

"Which one do you want to try first?" Jin asks, pulling her closer in the futile hope of lowering her voice a little.

"I want the kiwi ice cream that looks like a kiwi!" Sara announces, and Akira says, "I want a volcano," grinning.

*~*~*

They make it to the entrance after an hour of queueing. The place is huge, restaurants within the restaurant. There is a 'fruit stand' and 'Italy', a 'zoo' and a 'sports corner', and the air is cold enough that you can admire an ice-cream pokemon for several minutes before its face melts off.

No volcanoes, though. Jin's almost surprised, because a volcano would seem easier to construct than the plants, animals, pasta dishes and sports emblems that are on offer. Who would want to eat an ice-cream baseball glove?

Okay, one person he can think of.

Sara finds her kiwi but by that time her entire attention has been captivated by a gorgeous, enormous mandarin duck which is the centerpiece in the next window. Jin estimates it could feed a party of twenty. "Daaaaaad," she says.

Jin ruffles her hair. "You're kidding, right?"

"It would eat _you_ ," Akira says.

"It's just so pretty. And look at the _feathers_." Sara is biting her lip staring at the sugary frosting feathers. "I _bet_ it's got _fifteen_ flavors at least."

"Let's find you something your size with lots of different flavors, huh?" Jin says. She'd just about manage the pink beak of that thing. No need to even think about the price tag. "You don't want to have a belly full of monster duck and fall over, right?" He grabs her and pretends to make her fall down, and she squeaks.

She has a strawberry pig with chocolate and black sesame mud stains in the end, giggling about eating piggy butt. Jin has a chocolate banana monkey and Akira a bright green grass monster that Jin recognizes from the Disney movie they saw in winter. He says it tastes of melon, apple and pistachio.

Looking around, Jin finds that everybody seems to come here. Lots of families, but old couples too, and school kids, and groups of young women, and here and there people who are clearly dating. He pushed his sunglasses up when they came in and completely forgot about them; and it's not a problem because nobody pays him any attention anyway. Nobody knows him.

Nobody pesters him. It's what he always wanted.

"Are you coming to my birthday party, dad?" Sara asks, wriggling in her chair, which is a hollow ice cream cone with different-colored fillings. Akira discreetly rolls his eyes. Jin heard from Meisa that the invite list was quite a topic of evaluation and re-evaluation.

"I don't know yet, sweetie, I may have to work," Jin says. He should be okay, Meisa's always let him come, even to Akira's last year when he owed Meisa enough to buy a small car. He still wants to ask her first. "But I'll try, okay?"

"It'll be great," Sara says. "We thought up lots of games. Akira helped, and I invited two of his friends too, even though they're older. And one of them's a boy."

"We tried to make it so the games aren't lame," Akira says, looking pleased despite himself. If Jin can't make it to the party because he's really got work, he promises himself they'll do something even more awesome on the Thursday that's Sara's actual birthday.

They finish their first round, and Sara successfully argues that after standing in line for _one hour_ they should at least have _two_. After a bit of walking and staring, they end up with pizza napoli ice cream for Akira and a princess with a frosted tutu for Sara, who turns her a few times admiringly, then leans forward and bites her head off.

Jin has a coffee and, eventually, two princess legs that taste of marzipan when Sara has reached her capacity. She is adorable, grinning at him with the frosting on her nose. Akira is spearing his last olive-imitating grape, and Jin feels warm and cozy even with the chilly aircon.

Sara insists that they walk past the duck on their way out. "I'm going to put a photo up for my class to see," she says, and brings out her cell phone. They take a second picture of the duck with Sara and Akira beside it and send it to Meisa, and then they have to go because Jin needs to be at work by six.

"Are you working with someone famous tonight?" Akira asks, helping Sara struggling out of her ice-cream restaurant extra sweater.

"No, just the usual, helping out with someone's recording," Jin says, his standard line. It's been a lovely day and they had princess ice cream and admired ducks together, so not even that can get him down.

*~*~*

It's five when he deposits them back at Meisa's door. She looks a little worried, checking her watch. "Will you be all right?" she says. "I didn't want you to get in trouble..."

"I'm fine, I've got an hour to get there." He's learned to be on time; late, but he learned it, how not to be dead weight Meisa or his mother or... other people had to shoo around.

Sara is bubbling over with princess talk and kiwis and the _duck_ , but Meisa shushes her, saying, "Tell me over dinner, honey, it's almost ready, okay?"

The kids know this part, too. Jin's half in, half out the door, and this is Mom and Dad time, so they hug Jin goodbye and disappear into the kitchen.

"How was it?" Meisa asks, though her grin says she's drawing the right conclusions from the chatter.

"Well, I've always wanted to eat a Porsche," he says, and she laughs. "They were great."

"I'm sure you were great too," she says. "Have you seen them beaming?" It makes him flush – he knows how great he isn't. But he smiles anyway. She's beautiful, leaning against the door frame in her jeans and with flour dust on her t-shirt. He always sees it more when they're relaxed with each other, and he wants to hug her that moment, just for what they made together; all the parts he didn't turn into a mess.

"You're looking happier," she says, thoughtful, maybe a bit relieved. Like in spite of everything, she worried about him.

"Blame them," he says, nodding inside. "Oh, and... about her birthday..."

She nods right away. "The party's in two weeks, starts at two. That means you can come, right?"

He didn't think he had to be concerned, but the ease of it makes him feel much lighter. "Yes. The shifts are night, I'll be there."

*~*~*

That night he's back in his little box, surfing the web on his phone with the radio on low. His eyes itch from three night shifts in a row; he never quite caught up on his sleep, especially today, with the kids. But this was a good week. Kame and his sharks, never mind the dumb argument. And then two extra shifts here, and then ice cream. He can deal with that.

He flips through to his pictures, to the one of Sara with her piggy. There's nobody here to see his silly smile.

He checks the road ahead, checks his book and all that, just in case. Nothing much moving tonight. When the radio turns to news, he shuts it off, and ends up tapping a lazy rhythm with his feet.

_Summer blue, fading deep, let's keep this all, before the fall..._

He hums it a little, too. Nobody to hear either.

The next picture is of Sara and her duck and she looks so proud and perfect, Jin wants to give her that duck and anything else she wants.

He has extra money, from the extra shifts. It's a stupid thought. Frivolous. But for once he could afford it. Probably. Assuming they even deliver. Just imagining her face if the duck rolled up for her birthday party makes him laugh.

He hunts down their website on his phone, just to check, just in case. And of course they do, they probably deliver to the emperor's banquets.

He's not sitting in this box earning extra money so he can blow it on ice cream. It's irresponsible. Meisa would say so too. Akira's got that school trip coming up.

The duck stares back regally when he looks down at the picture again. He hasn't been able to give Sara really awesome presents for a while now. Always something, and always nice; but nothing _fantastic_. Nothing like an oversized ice cream Mandarin duck his girl fell in love with at first sight.

 

### Sunday

He sleeps when he gets off shift, because six a.m. is no time for phone calls, to anybody. He's also a little delirious and maybe hallucinating orange feathers. Pushing forty and still a baby about sleeping, he thinks, and then five hours are black and gone, just like that.

It's the first thought in his head when he wakes up again, bleary-eyed but reasonably awake. Awake enough for coffee, and staring at his hands around a mug for ten minutes while he drinks it and thinks. Then he picks up the phone.

Kame answers on the third ring. "Hello?" he says, cautiously. So he checked his screen before picking up. And answered anyway.

"Hi, hope I'm not interrupting a Sunday morning full of work," Jin says.

"It's noon," Kame points out. "I'm just taking a break."

"Great, perfect timing then!"

There's a pause.

"What do you want?"

That doesn't sound patient. Jin comes to the point.

"I was wondering if you have time to come by. I've got a new song."

" _Today_?"

"Yeah," Jin says, no sweat. "Sunday special, for loyal customers. Treat yourself to something nice."

The pause this time is longer, feels heavy.

"Why?" Kame says at last.

"I need some extra cash," Jin says. Why beat around the bush. "And you like my… songs." He's pretty sure. He never actually stopped to wonder how lame he'd feel if Kame turned him down.

He's getting a lot of time to wonder now. _Let's keep this all, before the fall_ in his head, irony he does not appreciate.

"Two forty-five or thereabouts," Kame says at last. "I have one more thing to take care of."

Jin's heart gives an inappropriate thump. Not exactly dropping everything but not a hard sell, either.

"All right," he says, cool as cream. "See you then." He's the one hanging up this time.

He doesn't go back to sleep. The lack of sleep is adding up and he should grab what he can get, but his body seems to find itself done with that for now.

So he clears away the futon, and has a proper breakfast with toast and honey and three cups of coffee while he checks his favorite news sites and blogs. He clears up his apartment afterwards, and then he showers, wastes a bit more hot water than normal because he can treat himself to something nice too, and by the time he's done it's half past two. His timing today, impeccable.

He picks comfy jeans, doesn't bother with socks, the black shirt a repeat. He looks okay, should pass inspection; his mouth tastes of minty toothpaste and he's surprised how little he's thinking about what he's doing.

He thinks about everything. Everyone's opinions and every way he fucked up, all the time; it's a constant babble in his head. So why he's not thinking about sucking cock once a week and offering seconds, he doesn't know.

It's not that he likes it. He burns inside every time he has to play nice for some jerk or someone who just doesn't care, and he should at least mind this, when Kame is rough, and smug, and they insult each other over beer. But he's thought more about Kame's sharks and his schedule than the next round of…

And he doesn't get to think much now, because the doorbell rings.

Never more than five minutes off, Kame. So respectful. "Hello," Jin says as he opens the door. "So nice to see you again. Happy you found the time."

Kame looks just the same, suit and shiny shiny shoes; a briefcase, too. He gives Jin a sceptical look and says, "I have to be at the office in an hour."

"Your sharks swim on Sundays, too?" Jin asks, he's not even sure why.

Kame's look turns careful, and the pause is longer. "I'm kind of hoping they're taking today off," he says in the end. And he waits, until it sinks in.

Jin can't help laughing. "You're stealing a march and you're stopping for a booty call?"

"I was made an offer I couldn't refuse," Kame says, lips twitching. He puts the briefcase down and carefully slips out of his jacket. "So," he says when he turns from hanging it up. "Let's hear this new song of yours."

Jin blinks. "My... what?"

Kame looks pointedly around Jin's apartment. At the guitar in its corner. At the empty chair. At Jin. "You said you had a new song."

"Uh," Jin says. Talk about unexpected. But Kame's chin is coming up, slowly, and boy Jin knows those signs, and he adds quickly, "Yeah."

Kame studies him like he is a naughty schoolboy, or possibly a criminal. "Well?"

"Well," Jin says, because where Kame gets off assuming that _he_ is the one being logical here, Jin doesn't know, "I didn't think you were coming for _music_." He thought they were well and truly done with that particular use for Jin's mouth.

Kame leans against the bookcase. "I'm versatile." He glances towards the guitar again, and assumes a pointedly patient air.

"You really..." Jin shakes his head, to clear the cobwebs out. "You want me to play you that song."

"The new one," Kame says peacefully. "I'd like that."

Right. Okay then. Jin gets the guitar, settles down, tunes up quickly.

Clears his throat, and _fuck_ it's a shock, like the room stretches out into air and he's alone on a stage, in the dark, everyone watching.

Stupid. His room is a shoebox. This is just Kame. So he starts. Thank god he's not going near anything that means much with his songwriting these days.

_Summer blue..._ He hasn't practiced and his chords aren't clean, but the melody is right there, the way it chased around his head. Softer than anything he'd pick for this, but who cares, he's fine, he sounds okay.

He plays it louder than ever before, now that there's an audience. Filling out his shoebox well, and Jin likes the sound of this, he _wrote_ this.

The text is harmless, the chorus strong and simple, a nice guy singing about a nice summer and there's no kids and divorced wives or ghosts of lives past.

Eventually there's no text, either, because the rhymes on the last stanza are unfinished and dumb, so his friends, the _la la la_ s, are invited back.

He's smiling a little when he finishes, the last high note vibrating out.

"That was quite nice." Kame is uncrossing his arms, letting them sink. It's not a chill, but it wakes Jin up.

"Glad you approve," he says. There, that was lame.

Kame takes the few steps across to him, all the folds on his suit looking like they were meant for moving like this. Jin pulls back his hands as Kame takes the guitar. He puts it to the side, slowly.

"So, a summer sky?" he says.

What? Jin blinks up at him. Then he opts for the equally obvious. "Yeah. A blue one."

Kame nods, thoughtfully as if Jin hadn't sung the chorus four times.

"Keeping it G-rated these days, I see," he remarks eventually.

"Times change." Jin's not so fascinated by his Love Juice anymore, and his main audience has a collective age of seventeen. "Were you hoping to get off on my _music_?"

It gets him an amused laugh. "No, I think I can do better than that." Then it gets him the fingers, back in his hair. Always those. "It was just an observation. I'm wondering what you want to write in the long run."

Jin's turn to laugh. Well, snort. "No idea. Whatever comes into my head." Kame's thumb strokes over his cheekbone; it feels weird talking like that. "Whatever I feel like. I can do that now."

"Inspiration on the night shift." Kame's thumb teases Jin's bottom lip. Jin bites it because that was mean.

Kame stills, and gives him a stern look. Jin lets go; stares back and waits to see what next. His mouth opens a little when Kame strokes down on his chin. He can smell the nicotine again, and under it that new perfume, warm leather and dark earth, and even a little of the freshness of Kame's shirt.

His hands cup Jin's face; they feel smooth and girly like they haven't held a bat in years. Tilting his head softly, and Jin goes with it.

"I want to see more from you," Kame says, in that deep voice he has, and Jin flushes all over, so hot Kame must feel it where he holds him.

"Don't tell me you came for a whole concert," Jin says, _because_ , but his voice is shit. Kame steps closer, and Jin doesn't get why he's still waiting, turned on as he is, why doesn't he just go for it?

Why's he standing there, looking Jin up and down, and down, making Jin shift uncomfortably.

"I want to see you too," he says, and it's the same drop, the room falls back again, goes dark, and Jin's pinned by one hot light in the middle. He leaves Jin's face sweaty, his hand trailing down Jin's front, as far as it can reach. A soft brush over fabric. A softer murmur. "Take it out."

His blood, it's everywhere, his heart racing trying to keep up. "Why?" It's barely a rasp. His hands are pulling up on his thighs and he stops them.

Kame has stopped touching him there. But nothing else has moved, he's still as close, still as hard. "Because I say so," he says; makes it sound like something plausible, something that makes sense. His hands stroke circles into Jin's shoulders, small, slow. "I want to watch you."

Watch... it goes into everything, all directions at once and now he's sweating worse, he swallows and balls his fists and _damn_.

"Sunday special," Kame says, his palm burning at the back of Jin's neck. "You told me."

"I didn't mean _that_ ," Jin points out and sounds weak to himself, and Kame says, "Oh, come on," like he's silly, and why this is more than letting Kame have his mouth, he doesn't know, maybe it's not, maybe Kame's right.

"Come on." A command now. Entitled asshole Kame, Sunday special, and Jin should get up, stop right there, and his fingers are clumsy on his jeans button and then the zipper is small, and slippery.

Above him Kame gives a little gasp. It makes the air around Jin prickle. He feels naked, slipping his hand inside his briefs and it's heavy already, and for a moment that surprises him.

What is he doing?

"Show me," Kame says, dry as dust.

That. He's doing that.

He frees it, pulls at it once, twice and it fills more, stands up a bit. He feels like the floor's vibrating under him. Everything else is still, and sharp. The air of his apartment is cold where he isn't holding on. Leaning above him, Kame has stopped breathing.

What now? He knows what now. But... really?

"Come on." Kame, sounding like he's whispering, very far away. But he's close, heat from his body in Jin's face, heat from his hands on Jin's shoulders. Fingers tight around his bones.

So, really.

Jin closes his eyes and starts.

Can't pretend to be alone, not for a second. Thinks he doesn't want to, even if that would be easier. He's on stage, might as well remember it. Kame's breathing helps, tight, high. Reminds him. It's so quiet he hears them both. The slide of his hand. Kame. Over and over.

He doesn't guess what Kame sees. Just tries to feel, tries to find the pleasure, draw it into a rhythm, find what's normal even with Kame there. It's not steady. His hand is steady but the feeling's up and down, up and jagged and full of rough spikes.

Kame makes a small, hidden noise, like he's the one Jin's touching. It's a jolt. He opens his eyes, nothing much there but the blue shirt and the bulge in Kame's pants but he stares anyway because this isn't a stage and Kame is touching his head. His fingers feel clumsy.

Jin speeds up. Longer, slicker slide. Curl in his stomach, holy fuck, and he feels Kame's body go stiff, his fingers clenching, his arm locked rigid. Jin leans there, it's easy. Shuts his eyes after all for the end and just listens, to the sounds Kame's trying not to let him hear and the movements he's trying to stifle and it's enough, it's plenty, and he jerks in his own grip and for a short while he thinks nothing.

A twitch in Kame's hand brings the thoughts back. He can still feel Kame's stare, even now his dick's spent and shrinking. It would help if somebody said something. Somebody, about how he's seen enough now.

Jin sits up straighter; Kame's hand slips off his shoulder and down his front again, but not far, not touching. Jin got it all on his shirt, and he's sweaty and slippery and fucking _exposed_ , and his fingers in his crotch are twitching towards his zipper, for covering himself.

There's a pause when he watches Kame's chest rise and fall, and he wonders if he's ready to look at Kame's face.

"Okay," Kame says, on a breath, maybe remembering that this was his idea and he should be the one dealing with it. "Okay." There's a tug when he brushes Jin's hair back, but like nerves and clammy fingers, not malice.

Jin gets his briefs back in place and zips up. Looks up, finally. And Kame looks more blotched and flushed than Jin feels, and halfway disoriented with the way he's not doing anything at all, and Jin almost asks him if he's okay.

"I assume you want to get your cock sucked now," he says.

Kame looks at him for a moment. Blinks at him once and says, "Yeah." Then he clears his throat and straightens invisibly. "Yes, I do." He undoes his belt, his fly, no movement wasted. He's very hard. "There. Suck it."

Right. Jin gets his lips wet and leans forward.

God, Kame's horny, more than the other times, he can smell it, taste it. But steady, no rush coming at him.

Kame in charge again. That hand on Jin's head again. No clutching now, just moving him a little, holding him there. In place for Kame's cock. Kame's hips are doing all the moving and his breathing's harsh but regular, and soon Jin loses track among the in and out, in and out, Kame taking it just as he wants it.

"More," Kame says. "Suck harder."

Jin sucks harder, the noises growing louder. He's getting sweatier, shakier by the second and Kame says, "Use your tongue," and he doesn't know how but he tries, loses the rhythm, the tightness, until Kame loses patience.

"Stop it. Just suck." A demanding hand on the back of his head.

Then it's fast, much faster, the shift in Kame's hips and the quickening pace, the hardening grip. Time to hold his breath for when it goes deep.

And then it's over.

"You want to make it complicated, maybe you could give me a fucking minute," Jin says when he can breathe steady again. "Asshole."

"I don't have your kind of time," Kame returns, finishing with his buttons. Yeah, right. He could do with a few new lines too.

Jin bites back the comment, because maybe discussing the quality of lines and blowjobs can take a backseat to getting a fucking drink. When he gets up, his damp shirt moves on his skin and reminds him it's damp. Fuck that, too.

He wipes his hands on his jeans and opens his wardrobe a crack, yanks out a t-shirt. He lets the bathroom door rattle shut behind him. Yeah, his apartment. The doors don't even slam.

The shirt lands in a corner. Then he rinses his mouth, wipes his face with water, and when he turns the tap off he listens. It's still quiet. Very quiet.

Okay. He pulls the t-shirt over his head and then he's back out there. Kame doesn't have his jacket on yet, but he's near the door. Also very quiet.

"You didn't even bring beer," Jin states and heads straight for the fridge. Kame actually looks caught, serves him right. Good thing Jin's still got four from last time. "Here."

Kame takes the bottle with an unreadable frown. Jin notices he's not wearing any of his chunky rings, or any jewelry at all. "I was... you know." He's squirming, trying to look blasé. Jin wants to laugh. "It was short notice," he finally says."I know, my bad," Jin says. "I'll schedule with your secretary next time."

"How come you still have them all?"

Jin shrugs. "Night shifts. I had more work. I don't drink at six in the morning."

Kame nods. Drinks some beer. Frowns at Jin. "So you're making more money now?"

Jin shrugs again. "Yeah. A little. For now."

"That's good," Kame says, looking strangely unconvinced.

"Yeah, I think so too," Jin says, because _duh_.

"Not enough though, huh?"

Studiedly casual. Shit acting. And from Kame, that's... weird.

"If you're worried that your source of blow jobs is going to dry up..."

"No, you retard."

Whoops. Jin purses his lips and looks him up and down. Kame shrugs, and sighs a little, like Jin is just one more burden added to his burdensome life.

"So what are these extra expenses?" he asks at last. He gestures around vaguely, at sessions past.

Nosey, is he. Jin's tempted to tell him it's none of his business, but telling the truth is even more irresistible. "A duck," he states.

Yes, that was worth it. Kame's murderous look cracks him up.

He grabs his phone off the table and flips through the pictures, to one without his kids. "This duck." He holds it under Kame's nose.

"I... see," Kame says after a moment, though he doesn't look like he's seeing anything. Jin doesn't laugh, holds the picture steady so he can check it out a bit longer. " _Why?_ "

"Because it's got sugar frosting feathers and at least fifteen flavors." He probably shouldn't enjoy this so much.

"Okay," Kame says, shaking his head like he walked into something, and drinks more beer.

Jin pockets his phone. He and the duck, they're tight. Buddies.

Kame gives him a final shifty look, but his face has closed now. "As long as you're not owing some loan shark or something."

"No," Jin says, when it sinks in. "No, I'm not in trouble. I just wanted... I don't spend my normal money on a duck."

That gets him a nod, approval of his responsible cash flow management. A couple of peaceful sips of beer.

"Are you working tonight, too?" Kame says then.

"Starting at six," Jin says. "How about you, when do you have to be... wherever?"

Kame gives a wry smile. "As soon as I can. Nobody is expecting me, that's kind of the point."

"Do you ever get time off?"

It just slips out. He never meant to ask. And Kame gives him an odd look.

"I am taking time off _right now_."

Right, okay. "Sorry, I forgot," Jin says, and toasts him. Sunday special. "So how is world domination coming along?"

Kame seems to be thinking about how much to tell him. In the end he smiles a little. "I don't know what you mean. I'm just a company employee like everyone else."

"I heard you're in a long game with Julie. I'm wondering what the score is."

The smile widens, while Kame carefully sets his bottle down. "Who told you that?"

"I hear stuff," Jin says. He also gets to get drunk on some really classy cognac. "Some people talk to me."

Kame's look is so incredulous, it's almost insulting. "Nobody talks to you. You don't talk to anybody. I would _know_."

Somehow Jin knows better than to suggest Kame's maybe not plugged into the Nobodies Information Network. "Fine, then I made it up. What's the score?"

Kame's eyebrows twitch, that's all. Not about to tell Jin any score. But he studies him thoughtfully. "You know, if it weren't for that bitch, we might even still have you on the payroll."

It gets him low, deep in the gut, where he thought it didn't matter anymore, nothing about this could touch him anymore. "Is that so," he says, and keeps his voice steady.

"It is," Kame says lightly. "She thought Johnny's American plans were nonsense from the start, and then you had to go make it easy for her. And for everybody else who thought you were more trouble than you're worth."

Oh, yeah, of course. Jin and his _rebellion_. "Well, weren't you smart you kept a safe distance."

That stare from Kame would make Juniors flinch. But Jin isn't one, he's not even in his fucking agency. And in the end it's Kame who says, "Whatever, Jin. You had all the chances. Some people would have killed to have Johnny love them the way he loved you."

"Yeah, that worked out really well for me. I'm so _grateful_."

"Well, you let him down," Kame shrugs. "You can only let so many people down before nobody gives a fuck anymore. But you know that."

Yeah, he remembers. Vividly. One flip and you're on the outside looking in, your goods sell for nothing and your singles not at all, people put condoms in your stuff and snigger as you walk past, and nobody's holding his hand over you.

"You know I tried," Jin says, his voice tight but it needs saying, because it's true. "I worked _hard_. I tried—" To make up for it.

"Maybe you should have tried harder," Kame snaps. "Too little, too late. If you'd been half as well-behaved as now before it all went to shit, things would have been easier for you."

"Yes," Jin says, his voice burning. "Great. I could have an awesome life. I could be working for _you_ , I suppose." For some dick in a suit who's trying to take over the world because that's all he's got. "The joy I'm missing out on."

Kame scans him, head to toe, and when he puts his beer down, Jin is ready to get him his jacket. "You've never known what's good for you," he says, strangely calm.

No, Jin doesn't think blow jobs for money make his life worth living and being dragged along some muddy memory lane helps his blood pressure. Clearly he lacks the proper _appreciation_.

But whatever. What the hell does Kame even know.

"Should I leave now?"

It's the first time Kame's asked him a politeness question like that. It throws him a bit. A minute ago he wanted to kick him out.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he says, because that's probably expected. "Plans to hatch, producers to butter up, people to fire?"

For a moment Kame looks irritated. "Why do people always think I would have fired you?"

What? That's not what Jin was saying; though sure, that would just— wait, he wouldn't? Yeah, right. "Maybe something went wrong with _your_ image too," he suggests helpfully.

Kame takes a sharp breath like there's things he has to say about this, heated things; but then he lets it go. He turns for his jacket instead, gets out his wallet, counts out the cash. "I won't be in the area again until Friday. Will this hold you or are there likely to be extra ducks?"

Jin takes the money. "I'll be fine."

After a moment, Kame seems to decide he's telling the truth. He steps into his shoes, straightens, his hand on the doorknob.

"On Friday, I'll fuck you," he says, and opens the door.

It takes a moment. Then it takes another moment before Jin finds any words at all, and Kame is halfway out the door when Jin says, "You think?" Kame raises his hand in goodbye and disappears down the stairs.

~

_to be continued_


	7. Week 5½

## Week 5 1/2

### Monday

"Saturday after next, five o'clock, third floor, very good. And would you like any eggs to go with that?"

Jin stares out his window, caught off guard. "What eggs?"

The lady just bounces on, sounding as cheerful as if Jin was the most interesting client she's spoken to all month. "Depending on the size of the party, you could order some eggs that'll be arranged around the bottom," she suggests. "For a fuller range of our flavors."

Jin considers it, size of the party and size of the party-goers and all. But sure, eggs, why not. "That would be great, thank you. Is there anything we need to do?"

"If you could clear a space large enough for the cooling unit, that would be _wonderful_. The apartment has regular air-conditioning?"

Jin confirms the aircon, confirms the floor, confirms the name on the door bell and the name on his credit card because it's not like he could send them folded cash in the mail, and then he is the proud owner of a Mandarin duck, to be delivered Saturday after next as a birthday surprise, plus eggs.

 

### Tuesday

Sometimes, he wishes he had a dog. A big smart one, one Sara could use for a pony. He'd take it for walks three, four times a day, because you can't keep a dog like that shut up in a little box of an apartment like Jin's, any more than you should keep a sane human shut up in it. Jin doesn't know how he managed to stick it out in there all day during the last few months. It's crazy-making.

Instead of the dog he doesn't have he takes music, finds out how far east an old Rihanna album will get him, if a DaMoppaz one will take him the same distance back. On Tuesday morning, he invents a game where he has to change direction every time Dr Dre says 'fuck' and sees where he ends up at the end of the album.

He cheats once when Dr Dre seems determined to make him fall under the Keiyou line, and eventually ends up in the yard behind a Korean laundry where people give him funny looks.

*~*~*

He walks to the warehouse lot, too. Not for work, since Appendix-san has recovered from his surgery and Jin's back to his weekend box. But he's been invited to lunch with colleagues, as a thank you for his amazing lot-walking at short notice, and for the sake of career-building he didn't dare say no.

Anyway, he walks, it gives him an aim.

They go to a little Chinese place, and Jin gets introduced amidst lots of bowing all around. They're nice guys, all eight of them, wanting to talk mostly about baseball and the qualifiers for the Asian Games. Jin doesn't have to say much, just be the junior colleague with the underemployment problem who's turning his life around, or whatever they think; they don't bug him about it.

Only one guy seems to know he was a Johnny's, because he takes Jin aside and asks hesitantly if he can get his little daughter an autograph of a boy called Morimoto who is ten years old and in KITTY-KISS-ME. Discreet, and Jin is grateful, and he's a little sorry to say no, he can't. Well, he might be able to get one for a blow job, but he's not quite _that_ sorry. And he doesn't say that either.

Besides, he's not sure who runs the pedo idols, he thinks that might be Julie. He's so out of the loop, it's unreal.

"You have children, don't you, Akanishi-kun?" Appendix-san asks him with an inviting smile. He's being kind, finding the thing they have in common, and Jin bows gratefully and tries to be modest about his kids.

Colleagues. A thought to get used to again, over and over, but maybe it'll help that these are all guys, even if they have daughters. Maybe this will last.

 

### Wednesday

He walks a Lord Flapjack album's worth west. Past the park of freckled foreigners, past a closing mall, all the way through residential until it gets livelier again and there are things in the shop windows.

It's a sunny afternoon, not too hot today, a fresh breeze from the sea. He checks out the displays as he strides past. He hasn't bought new clothes in forever – no money and he didn't see the point – but suddenly he's thinking a couple new shirts for the summer would be cool.

He flinches when Nakai grins back at him, unwelcome and smarmy like in one of his car commercials.

Exactly like the car commercial, actually; Jin realizes it's the lifesize cut-out _from_ the commercial. Right next to a large poster of Kimura in his latest film, and right. Jin looks at the shop sign. _ONLY ONE_.

Jin never tried to get the inside info on why they left JE to go independent, or what it cost them, but it did cost them their name. It's been... six years? Seven? Anyway, they're doing just fine. Jin sees them in commercials, charts, everywhere except the Johnny's house channel.

He glances past Nakai into the shop. It looks spacious and empty compared to a JE shop; seems to be designed that way. Wide aisles, chairs. A coffee bar. There are women with kids in there, chatting. And the sign mentions other shops in Shibuya and Osaka. This is headquarters, out of the way of the crowds. The offices are upstairs.

Offices. Less than ten minutes' drive from Jin's apartment.

Jin stares at Kimura, who stares back at him from under some futuristic space uniform cap. His pose looks utterly familiar because Kame copied it when they were teenagers and Jin got it up close and next to him for over ten years.

*~*~*

The kids smile like the sun's coming up the moment they see him waiting outside the gate, Sara breaking into a gallop that makes her skirt throw waves.

"What are you doing here, dad?" She beams up at him and he takes it as an invitation to sweep her up on his shoulders.

"Taking you home. I have the day off and wanted to see you."

He called Meisa first, of course, even for just this. Even though the delay of a phone call seemed too much in his claustrophobic apartment. And of course it was fine, it's always fine when he's not owing her months' worth of money, and he walked his restlessness off on the way here.

"Are you taking the bus with us, dad?" Akira has arrived at a more leisurely pace; no overexcited running in front of the classmates.

"If you like," Jin replies. "But if we walk, we'll come past the new taiyaki place. I'd fancy one with peanut butter filling. What do you think?"

They walk, at the pace of Sara's short legs. Akira shuffles along close to the buildings, trying to stay in the shade.

"Are you hot?" Jin finds it pleasant, but he's not the one in a school uniform.

Akira gives him a pained look. "It _is_ hot."

"It's summer!" Sara skips happily, and Jin smiles. Someone in the family got his genes, all right.

"Anticipating your trip to Okinawa?" he says to Akira, and laughs when Akira groans.

"You're an adult, you're not supposed to make fun of a child," Akira complains.

"But I look forward to it all day," Jin grins back, though he stops them at the next vending machine and gets cold drinks for everybody. It takes him a moment to realize the guy holding a Pepsi at him from the machine's glossy surface is Ueda.

Right, yeah. He knew that. Ueda was all over Tokyo when that campaign started. Dark hair, green eyes. He looks older, and almost as cold as Kame. But extravagant; slick in black and studs and the latest chunky leather shoes.

Kame and his suits. Not a single girl's bag or bizarrely fashionable coat in all their meetings. Is that growing up, or a little sad?

"Are we doing something on Saturday?" Akira asks.

"Doing?" Jin's not following.

"Anything special, like, complicated?"

Jin was thinking of nothing more complicated than a trip across to Odaiba. He's glad he gets the day with them, with Akira off on his school trip on Sunday. "I don't think so," he says, "but if you want me to complicate your life, I'll see what I can do."

But Akira is biting his lip, so something's up.

"Spit it out," Jin says. "What do you want?"

Akira squirms. "If we're not doing anything _special_ , would it be okay if Minjun-kun comes along?"

"Minjun-kun?"

Akira flushes. "Park-kun. It's his name. Only he's not doing anything on Saturday and he asked if I had time."

"Sure he can come along, if his mom says it's okay. I thought maybe we'd go to Odaiba. But we can also stay closer to home."

"Can I bring Yumi along then?" Sara is jumping up and down, tugging at his hand. "Yuuumiiii!"

"Yes, you can bring Yumi, if her mom will let her come."

Akira rolls his eyes. Jin nudges him. "You can protect Park-kun from her."

Yumi is a year older than Sara and has what Meisa calls a forceful personality. Jin doesn't mind Sara hanging out with her because it'll teach his princess valuable life skills, such as standing your ground against a formidable opponent.

"Yeah," Akira says darkly.

"How's the thing with your homeroom teacher going?" Jin remembers.

"Huh," Akira says.

Like that, then.

"Does Mom know there are still problems? Like... if the teacher decides to complain about _you_ , will Mom know what's going on?"

Akira kicks a tiny stone Jin can't see off the pavement and slouches deeper into the shade. "We'll handle it, okay?" he says, and Jin's pretty sure he's not talking about his mother.

"Okay," he says. "Just try not to give her stuff to use against you." Better not to make it too easy when people are gunning for you.

And he'll have a quiet word with Meisa himself.

*~*~*

"Yeah," Meisa says, brushing her hair out of her face impatiently. "I don't know how the woman ever got a job as a teacher, but Akira insists that I should stay out of it."

Akira is inside, having 'an ice cold bath'. Sara is lurking somewhere beyond the genkan and Jin's sure she's listening in to every single word.

"What does Park-san say about it?"

Meisa shrugs. "What can she say? She doesn't have much recourse. That's what drives me crazy. If _I_ said something, they'd have to take it seriously, but I can't because Akira won't let me, because he and Park-kun have this kind of... this... this _thing_." She scowls at Jin as if it's his fault. " _Men_."

Jin brings his hands up. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm one of the girls."

At least that makes her laugh. She's beautiful when she laughs.

"What about Park-san, would she like you to—"

"Good grief, no." Meisa wrinkles her nose. "Not on her behalf, anyway. When that would _help_." She rolls her eyes in the direction of the bathroom with the ice cold bath. "I think he'd understand that, if I said my friend Park-san asked me to. I'm just not allowed to be a good mommy and fight the battles he's picked."

At least they're the right battles. "I didn't think that could still get so ugly," Jin says. "Not in schools. Not… nowadays." Wasn't all that supposed to get _better_?

Meisa laughs again. She's closer to the school politics, and this is not a happy laugh. "I bet some Korean actor won a prize from her favorite when she was in high school and she's still bearing a grudge, or something like that. God, this pisses me off so much."

He's known people in the business who hated Koreans, for the music thing and the drama successes, and suddenly he's thinking of Kame, Kame and rumors about Koreans, rumors about bad business years. He caught Taguchi's experimental Korean look, watching from the sidelines, figuring this was about attracting the Hallyu demographic. The year before Jin got fired, Johnny launched an all-Korean group, but they ran such lukewarm numbers Jin's even forgotten their name.

Meisa is looking at him; Meisa still works in the business, and Jin hesitates because this is _this_ and that is… something else. "Hey, you've done work at Asahi right? I mean after I got, after we… after 2018?"

Meisa's frown gets puzzled. "Yes. Not much. Why?"

"Nothing, I wondered about… Kamenashi, I was thinking of those rumors."

"Kamenashi?" The frown deepens, a shadowed line he wants to smooth away. "What's he got to do with this?"

"I just… the Korean thing reminded me. That I heard he had something to do with Music Station going under. I'd wondered if you'd heard about it."

"Oh, that. No, I don't know the whole story," Meisa says. "But I hear they think he's a right bastard."

Something flutters nervously in his stomach. Maybe because he's not sure he's meant to know this. "Yeah?"

"It's what I picked up over the years. I was third fiddle on some Asahi talk show, and apparently he played hardball over the quotas."

"But they're only exclusive on NuCC these days," Jin frowns. NuCool Channel, if ever there was a dumb name. But even the company had to compromise on the other networks if they still wanted their promotions.

"Yeah, I don't know." She narrows her eyes when she thinks. "I think he just got really pissed at them? I didn't pay attention because I had other things on my mind, but I've also heard guys at NHK say that Johnny was a pussycat in comparison."

 

### Thursday

He's never been keen on tidying up. Most of his life he got out of it, his mom coming round to his apartment when he was alone, and then there was Meisa who was great at organizing the non-disclosure cleaning ladies, and it's really only been since... later, that he's had to do anything himself. Just as well the apartment is small.

But it's one of those things. He lets it slide, he knows it's a bad week, and then it's another bad week. He's done that. Weeks when old bento boxes on all surfaces and layers of dust on the clothes in the corners didn't matter because he didn't have to get dressed and he didn't have to move to go anywhere.

But this is a good week, this has been a good month, and he's vacuuming the tatami, earbuds in and LaLOLA on. No huge job, easy under the table where he's stashed most of the small junk that normally lies around. With the chair folded away and his guitar hung up on the coat rack, that's all the space clear.

So people can't stand good little Kazuya-kun. Inconceivable.

More hardass than Johnny, but he wouldn't have kicked Jin to the curb, he says.

No, Jin's not going to think about that.

LaLOLA gets to the end of her rap and he turns the vacuum off, gets the bowl and the cloth and starts to wipe. That's the step he skips most often, but he's got time today. No kids, no shift, no Kame.

He wants to know what happened. What is happening.

He doesn't like that, it's better if he's not even curious, about any of them. It's got nothing to do with him, and all his friends...

Yeah, he thinks, all those friends. All those friends he talks to these days. Like it still matters what he does or knows or says, to whom. No-one to protect now except his family and he can't even do that.

His laundry's finished running, and he hangs it up in the neat way he's learned, the only way that works when there's not much space.

Dishes, sink, toilet. He wipes the front of his two kitchen cabinets and then he wipes on _top_ of them, discovering a whole new world where crap gathers. Do girls get taught this stuff?

His knee is twitching when he sits down with the last of his beers, his hands dry from cleaning foam. He hates thinking of Pi out of the blue.

He's used to not having anyone to call, to talk about shit. Most days he doesn't have shit to talk about, and even Kame and his quotas and his sharks... if he _could_ call Pi, now, he wouldn't waste time on any of that.

It's like some pulse behind his eyes, suddenly. He even turns on his tab, goes into the e-mails from yesterfuck and glitterdays, scrolling down and down the screen.

Pi still sent him his first two addresses and cell numbers in the States. The first message is short and confused, in almost formal Japanese that makes Jin bite his lip and blink the sting away. The second's just a group mailing.

Jin's got five-year-old numbers, and he was trying to do the right thing, and it sucks.

So, no calling people. No asking what the hell is going on. Just a quiet Thursday, and Jin drinks his beer and stares at a wall.

 

### Friday

He's absorbed in his composing software, fiddling with fiddly bits, when the phone rings. Jin nearly drops it when he lunges for it. "Yeah?"

"I'll be there in an hour," Kame says.

"An hour, huh," Jin says, because... because. "Not in the neighborhood today?"

There's a pause. Something rustling. Maybe it's Kame's brain. Maybe not.

"No," Kame says at long last. "One hour. See you then."

Jin takes a breath, but Kame beats him to it; to anything. The line's dead. Jin lets the phone sink and looks at the screen. 14:07.

He lets the air out again. Right, one hour. What does he do.

He makes tea for starters and then he grabs his wallet. Also his phone. A few minutes won't be a problem.

He walks along the landing, up one flight of metal stairs. Good thing he remembered where Imamura-san lives, because this is something he can take care of in the meantime. It's June now and less than a thousand yen.

He rings the bell, trying to smile when he hears shuffling and the clink of a chain, but his face can't be bothered to get with the program.

"Oh, Akanishi-san," Imamura-san says brightly with that perfect housewife face, and then her eyes skim over him. "Oh..." She blinks.

Oh. Yeah. The shirt and black jeans he put on after his shower. She's not used to seeing him in anything above 'slightly not homeless'.

"Good afternoon," he says, because somebody should say something. "I hope I'm not disturbing..."

"Not at all," she says quickly, "so nice to see you."

"I've brought my contribution for this month." He holds out the envelope and she takes it with thanks, gives him a neatly written receipt. Then she comments on the rainy season and how dear old Takahashi-san from 1D so helpfully keeps the landings wiped dry, and isn't it sad what happened to his wife.

Jin nods and agrees for about five minutes, the heat sneaking under his clothes, then he makes his excuses. He doesn't want to end up having to shower again, or with his hair sagging like dough. Anyway, he's paid his dues.

Then he's back in his badly air conditioned apartment and has something like forty minutes left, and what do you do with those. Two hours, he could take out the tablet and see where he could get to with that new song, but forty minutes is—

Song. He hasn't got one, didn't think of it. No song, no practice, not even just in case. But last time was _special_ , right, and the time before that they agreed to do without, so...

He takes a gulp of his lukewarm unloved tea, shrugs to himself. He's got some Hot Dogs in cold storage for emergencies. He's good.

And he's got thirty-eight minutes.

He spends them browsing for random shit, some reviews of singles TuneShop thinks he's just going to _love_ and Jason's remastered Best Of e-album, which his mom might get him for his birthday. Some reviews for new movies his kids might ask him to see, because he likes to check out warnings for gory or otherwise upsetting stuff. Then he just generally clicks around, to see what's new.

Not much. Not much at all. Same old, scrolling on.

The doorbell rings.

Jin rises. His phone says it's 15:08.

He opens the door, to a gust of warmer air and Kame standing there.

White shirt, no jacket. Plastic bag, no briefcase. He's wearing sunglasses. "Hi."

One hour, one minute. Friday.

"Hi," Jin says. He steps back, his naked feet not making a sound. Kame follows and the door falls shut.

"Here," Kame says, holding out the bag. "You can put those in the fridge."

Yeah. Sure. Jin takes the bag. Jin will do that.

Behind him, he hears the soft drop of Kame's shoes, Kame stepping up. When he turns, Kame is looking around; looking everything over. Shielded.

It's quiet and still, and Jin says, "Where did you park?" because he never asked before.

Kame is blank, clean as glass. "Car park, three streets away. It's secure." Three streets, that's a walk, humid heat Jin thinks he can feel, and Kame pulls his sunglasses off, looks around again, and the room is so much smaller.

Jin could say other things. About the beer, about Kame's precious precise timing. Or he could just shut up.

Kame puts the glasses on a shelf, skims the floor as if he can see more than Jin, and then looks straight at him. "You didn't take the bed out."

No. He's flushing, he put it away this morning, and he didn't think of it. Didn't think of it at all. "It gets in the way."

Kame's eyebrows twitch. "You think?"

"It's a small apartment," he says. He doesn't know why he sounds like he's lying.

"Big enough for our purposes," Kame says, not that Jin is hearing much, catching up with five days to here and Kame's dark stare. "Go take the bed out."

Take the bed out. Because Kame has a plan, he gave Jin notice, and now it's time for that. All very tidy.

Kame thinks so too. It's in the set of his shoulders and half a smile; patience, and expectation. At home and at ease, perfect in his shirt and soft hair, and this isn't what Jin should notice. He should be angry, maybe. Nurse his pride and hate his unfair life.

He feels like he's moving through water when he turns to the wardrobe. _Take the bed out._

He rolls out the futon, and just bending down for the task makes him feel naked, drives the sweat to his neck.

Progression. One step after the other, and this is that.

"Good."

Through water, and it goes over him like another wave. Kame is still watching him, no smile now. But Jin hasn't seen him this open and intent since he started taking detours to has-been and miss-you-not. Does this mean Kame's won?

Jin doesn't feel lost. Even though he's got nothing to say, doesn't know where to move.

"Will you take your clothes off?"

Jin slows. Everything's slow, and it seems a strange question. "That would help. Wouldn't it."

There's heat in Kame's eyes. "Very."

Shirt first, Jin thinks, and his hand is halfway there when he considers. "You'll take your clothes off, too?"

"Yes," Kame says. He doesn't move, but he wouldn't lie. Not about this.

Buttons, one by one. He could just pull the shirt over his head, but something tells him not to, something about the way Kame seems to want to burn through the shirt with his eyes.

They've seen each other topless, even naked, so often. Just not on Jin's futon, with Kame's plan. The thought raises goosebumps on his skin when he puts his hands on his belt buckle.

Kame is staring at him with his lips parted and with utterly undivided attention. When Jin pulls down the zipper, Kame swallows.

Jin pushes all the fabric down together. Has to take his eyes off Kame to step out of his jeans, has time to feel a chill on his skin, in his mind.

But Kame moves, Kame is there. Small apartment.

His hands come down on Jin's hips. Small, smooth office hands, and Jin swallows _hard_ and he blinks, feels like they're pulling him to a stop, or holding him here, or something.

Kame looks Jin over, unembarrassed. Jin's chest and his stomach and his cock and his thighs, and his hand sketches the direction after. It feels free, touching wherever, however, just because. Kame's hand lingers just below Jin's ribs, and then there's a light squeeze and he lets go.

Kame undresses silently and like it doesn't matter, not taking that focus away. But he's doing it, like he said. Jin breathes and lets Kame look his fill, watching Kame's buttons and everything else in turn.

He still works out, has settled into some muscle. Just a bit of flesh on his hips, like they never had as teenagers. He's never felt the years on Kame more, strong years. Kame's no kid.

When Kame pushes his briefs down his hard-on is right there, and Jin breathes through a shudder. Knows it's dumb; he's seen it, he's sucked it, and he's old and knows shit and he made his choice... when? When did he do that. Interesting question.

Then Kame kicks those elegant pants to the side like a balled-up paper bag and Jin bites his lip, doesn't know why he _likes_ that so much.

"Turn around for me?"

The water shifts, pulls at him. Turn around, what for? He turns, slowly, feeling clumsy and unsure what do to with his hands, and then he stands still. He feels Kame's breath behind him, and it makes him flush, zig-zag jolts through all his limbs. He doesn't know how to take that attention, he's not used to it.

"You're really something," Kame says, a whisper trickling down Jin's back.

Is he, still? He doesn't know what he is, or what he's doing, except turning for Kame, naked. Waiting.

Kame's hand is on his shoulder. Dry heat. Kame guides him back around. His eyes are holding nothing back and if there was ever a moment Jin should have been afraid, it's this.

"Get down now."

The only thing that drops is Jin's stomach. Jin stands and blinks at Kame and he's too slow, this is too slow.

Kame's hand is back on his hip. More guidance. He's staring at his blue sheets and then his knees are on the futon, and Kame's touch is just there, on his shoulder from high. He leans forward, and he closes his eyes.

Too slow. He can't think, he can't hear and where is Kame?

Kame takes a moment, and then there's just the smallest pull in the sheets under him, Kame on the futon. Jin breathes, he's so naked and what is he _doing_ , and his skin shakes inside out when he pictures himself.

Too slow.

Kame's hand high between his shoulders, light touch, calming. "You look gorgeous."

Mindreading now. Jin bites his lip. Tenses when Kame's hand moves, long slow strokes down his back, and up and further down.

Relax.

"Relax," Kame says, and this is freaky.

But it works. Works better when Kame tells him. The next sweep goes all the way to his ass and lingers there, hot curious fingers on cool skin, and he breathes through it. It doesn't feel bad or anything.

Then Kame's hands are gone, and this isn't steady, Jin's not, this bed is not, until Kame shifts between his legs, skin against his thighs, what is he _doing_ , and the touch is back and it's cool, slick and wet, slipping... between.

He almost jumps away. Holds his breath instead.

It feels so weird, and nothing's even... Kame's slicking him up, that's all. Knows what he's doing, unlike some. He hears the sound of Kame's strained breathing, and he keeps listening to that, and then there's a slippery hand on his hip.

"Spread wider," Kame says. "Tilt up." The hand guides him. "Hold still."

He holds still. Ass in the air, waiting.

"Get with it," he grates when a second later still nothing has happened, and then it's there, big, slick and opening him up.

His breath just stops.

Kame doesn't. Slow, hardly moving except Jin _feels_ it, more of it every moment, more of the burn. Kame's slow, and Jin's head runs through everything, Kame on his doorstep and songs and suits and hands in his hair.

"Breathe," Kame says, and all the air leaves him in a rush, and he sucks in more, and feels Kame from the shudder.

It helps. He breathes again when he remembers, and it goes easier. Bit by bit and it can't be slow enough, and it's keen and alien, pinning him right on an edge. But it's nothing he can't do. For however long it needs.

"How is it?" Kame asks on a pause, his hands hard on Jin's hips. The strain in his voice tells him there's a way to go.

How? It's strange, really strange. "Go deeper," Jin says, because he can take this. Bury his face and let Kame in until they're as close as they can be, and maybe he was waiting for this.

Kame goes deeper, a little sharper and Jin bites back a sound. But he remembers to breathe, and it lasts and lasts and then Kame is there, close as it gets. Stilling with a sigh, his hands warm around Jin's hips. His thumbs are light, stroking. Kame hasn't touched him like this.

He can feel the long, slow breath Kame takes. It's like he can feel everything. He wonders if he's expected to do something now.

"You're doing well."

Is he? Jin squeezes his eyes shut, tries not to shudder. Silly. Stupid. He's doing nothing, just holding still.

But he's sweating, breaking out all over.

Kame pets him; his sides, just a bit, everything a little sticky. "You're perfect," he says, a rasp like dead leaves.

And Jin's flush spreads worse, he doesn't know why, why he's _listening_ , so much. "Good for—"

"Shh," Kame cuts him off. "Stop that."

So he does.

"I'll move now," Kame tells him.

Jin nods, to himself; to the sheets, maybe. Exhales and the sweat prickles, and then Kame pulls back and oh fuck what _is_ this, stop.

His arms are wobbling, he wants up or down and he's inside out and trapped and just a mess, a shaking mess.

Kame grips his hips, hard. Sharp through the blur.

"You're fine," Kame says, and the burn comes back, Kame pushes back, up close, "just fine," and same again, double-time, and oh _fuck_ , "breathe," and he does, and okay... okay. Fast, hard and full, but slippery smooth as well and somehow, sometime it clicks, there's not going to be any pain.

"Good," Kame says, and Jin agrees, not that it's needed. Nothing's needed.

Just Kame and what he wants, moving him the way he wants. That's all. That's enough, full in his head, and Kame pulls him higher and it's the easiest thing, the clearest thing to go with it. Go, take him in, take wet slapping sounds and Jin spreads wider, to get more of each thrust, the strength of Kame's legs and the roughness that pins him, puts him _right here_ , he knows where he is and what and he feels _himself_ right to his curling fingertips, no stranger's skin numb to the world.

He makes a plaintive noise when it stops.

He hears Kame, too, his breaths like aftershocks against him. It's over? Kame is done?

The moment just passes, the grip on him still firm, there's still that. And Kame slipping out of him, strange too and Jin doesn't stop the shudder that goes through him, just puts his head down. Nothing needed. Kame is stroking him with sticky hot hands and Jin's got his ass spread out for him and that's just the way it is.

"Turn over," Kame says, and shows him, too. It's easy. He feels how wet he is back there, how strange it is to move. Somehow he likes it. He's on his back, Kame still kneeling, his hair sagging and his chest slick with sweat.

Watching him, suits and shoes and sharks and cash folded in over a twenty-year-old stare. Jin looks back and hides nothing. Not that he's waiting. Not that he's sweaty, too. Not that he spread for it. It's that same feeling, being _right_ where he is. No questions and no whispers. His mind is so clear.

"Pull your feet in more," Kame says, pushes a bit to show what he means. Then one of his hands strokes down the inside of Jin's thigh, slow and right down, round, and a finger probes the wetness... there. Jin swallows hard but it's already stopped again, and Kame strokes up the other thigh, lays his other hand on Jin's belly. Wherever he touches Jin's skin starts to shimmer.

His eyes come to rest on Jin's face. Studying him; taking his measure, and Jin wonders what Kame sees, if he can look as deep as Jin feels him. If he can that's okay. Kame is sweaty and he's still flushed, and Jin had a part in that.

Is he waiting for Jin to protest? Or just waiting to get his second wind? Do they have to wait in silence?

Kame shows him a slow smile. "Let's do something about you now."

What?

Kame's hand slides down to Jin's cock and lifts it, squeezes softly. And a familiar low curl stirs in Jin's belly, muddies the calm.

Kame is watching. Always watching, and giving one slow tug. "Come on," he says, eyes fixed on Jin's, and the curl turns to a glow.

Yes, okay. He can come on, if that's what happens. He can come.

Kame strokes him, and Jin keeps breathing. He wants to close his eyes but Kame is holding his gaze.

It's strange, someone else's hand after so long. Someone new, and he feels that, but more than anything he feels Kame urging him on. Closer.

Then Kame shifts and his head goes down. Down. A strong, warm wet lick across his cock, and Jin shakes, in all directions at once. He never thought... but who knows how it all works for Kame, what he might want.

Kame's head moves, his hair in Jin's groin, his mouth making Jin hold still, with a hard squeeze and soft warmth.

He bites his tongue when the sucking starts.

Suddenly Kame raises his head, a little frown on his face. "If I wanted you quiet, I'd gag you with your underpants," he says. "Give it up."

It tears a whimper from him and he digs his heels into the sheets. When Kame goes down on him again the breath hitches in his throat. "God, Kame..."

Better; Kame lets him know that's better, sucking him harder, and he gasps, "please," and there's fingers digging into his hips and even that, _everything_ winds him higher. Kame's hair lifting and trailing on his skin, up, down and it's the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and just feels, Kame being _good_ at this, oh god of course he is, and Jin shakes and makes thick little noises, and he says, "I'll come," and Kame lets him.

He hears his own voice, drowned in relief that goes through everything, and Kame's holding his ass and Jin's mind just goes flat and black.

Then he's done, and breathing. That's enough. And that heat under his skin won't fade. Kame pulls off slowly. Sitting up between Jin's legs, still damp, his lips kind of... red.

He's quiet. Quiet but pleased.

Good.

It would be normal to say something, now. But Jin doesn't want to; feels for once he doesn't need to. If Kame had a problem, he wouldn't be feeling up Jin's legs or tickling his knee.

Then Kame shifts. "Stay," he says. "I'll be right back."

Hands gone, Kame gone. Jin flat on his back and all fucked out. He just stays. It's so easy.

Kame's in the bathroom, running water. Jin watches him walk back, how lean he looks, and dishevelled, and he doesn't even look away when Kame kneels back between his legs, washcloth in hand. Warm and wet at his ass, and Jin flinches, because that's embarrassing, and then it's just warm and wet. Kame wipes him down conscientiously and Jin keeps his legs apart and his eyes on whatever.

Then Kame folds the cloth away and moves aside, comes to rest with his back against the bookcase. Jin closes his eyes again because he's feeling just that drifty.

"That was excellent," Kame considers. And then, as if it's important that Jin should know, "You were excellent."

Good, Jin thinks, that's good. "You weren't bad, either," he says. Though Kame probably doesn't need that reassurance.

There's an odd silence. But Jin's too comfortable to do anything about it, and eventually Kame says, "Are you okay," sounding like it's not really a question because he'd much rather not ask.

"Peachy," Jin says. He turns on his side, slow with limbs giddy and drunk. Kame's hairy square knees are right in his vision, and Jin doesn't follow them up, though he half wants to. A lube bottle is capped on the other side of the futon. "You used a lot of that," he says.

"Well," Kame says, with a glance from high above. "Hurting you's not the idea."

"Hm." Jin settles down with his head in the crook of his elbow. Kame's skin is pale; hasn't been out of those suits in years, Jin guesses, and he sighs. "I'd like one of those beers," he says. "But I don't want to move."

He can feel Kame thinking. Thinking the right things, because after a moment he pushes off. "Don't get used to it," he says, but no more. Jin sighs again, just imagining the cool taste.

Kame walks without shame of being naked, gets the beers, pops them open. Jin watches his thighs as he comes back, remembers how powerful they felt against him. It makes him shiver a little and he imagines it some more.

Kame folds himself down against the bookshelf again, holding the beer out. Jin curls the bottle out of his hand, and one of them gets their fingers tangled. Jin's not sure if it's him.

Kame's short fingers. His perfect manicure, the whiff of stress and smoking breaks. Jin turns his hand over, the only part of Kame that is tan.

"You smoke too much," he says quietly. "I can smell it on you."

Kame jerks his hand away, hides it in his lap. "Is that so."

But Jin props himself up, pulls it back against tension and Kame thinking so noisily. "It's not good for you," he says. Puts his nose against Kame's palm. Breathes in, sex and cigarettes and come.

Kame's fingers are twitching, the tension never fading. After a moment he winds his wrist out of Jin's touch. "Never thought you'd even have a nose for it," he says, drinking his beer. "When did you quit?"

Jin looks up at him for the first time and finds his face a little red. "Three months after my son was born." He remembers it a bit ruefully. "I meant to as soon as he was there. But he was fussy, I hardly slept those first few months." He remembers some half-hysterical breaks on the balcony, sucking down a cigarette wondering if his baby would ever go to sleep.

"Good times," Kame remarks, and Jin just nods.

"Yeah."

They have a few more companionable gulps of beer. The sun's trying its best to push through the curtains, it's a lazy and warm afternoon, and Jin just got fucked. He's still wrapping his woozy head around that. He sets down his bottle and lets his eyes wander along Kame's naked body.

"So how long have you been going without?"

Kame's look sharpens on him. "What makes you think I've been going without?"

Touchy, is he. Jin raises an eyebrow. "You didn't use a condom."

"Oh," Kame says, and flushes. "Yeah."

"So?"

Kame hesitates. Weighs. "About five years, I would guess," he says flatly. "If it's any of your business."

Wow. That's a long time. For someone who's so... Who's not like Jin, divorced and broke, and who's... "That's pretty long," he says.

Kame shrugs, but Jin's no fool. He's known that defensive body language half his life.

"Do you want to go again?"

Piercing focus, instantly, a wash of a reminder of all the ways Kame touched him today. Then Kame pulls back. He might as well be putting on sunglasses.

"I think I can restrain myself until next week, thanks," he says tersely.

"Suit yourself," Jin says, pleased that his voice is smooth. "So why did that last guy dump you? And was he serious?"

"Not serious enough that I care all that much," Kame snaps. Yes, totally. Kame does really well on not getting any.

"So what happened?"

"You're fucking nosy today."

"I have a boring life." Jin takes a long swig, gives Kame time to make up his mind how intruded-upon he wants to feel.

"Buy yourself a TV."

"I have a TV, but it doesn't bring me beer."

Kame looks from him to his beer as if the beer is now being nosy too. But then he takes a breath, a smooth one that Jin wouldn't notice if Kame weren't naked. "Must be an old model," he judges. "It's sad when poor people can't keep up with the times."

"Yeah," Jin says. "Sucks." He shifts a little, his body finally cooling down. "Why'd you take an hour to get here today?" he asks then. "Where were you?"

Kame blinks at him like Jin is a reporter and the Q&A was technically finished two questions ago. "I came from home," he says slowly, like he's weighing every word. "I wanted to shower."

"Hm." So Kame thought about it. Didn't do what Jin did. Kame in the shower, thinking about fucking Jin. Jin has a drink, his dry mouth wants it. Moves on quickly. "So no secret meeting with SMAP today?"

"What do you mean by that." Now, Jin is a sleazy hack for Tokyo Sports caught lurking in a dark car park, and Kame's voice could cut glass.

"Their headquarters is the right distance from here," Jin says easily. It feels a bit like talking down a skittish tiger. _Shark_ , Jin's brain supplies unhelpfully. "There's not much else around here that would be relevant to you, so unless you were fibbing all the time about being in the area anyway and just came because I'm so pretty..."

The tiger shark on his futon is regarding him like he's just turned into a problem that needs solving. Jin feels kind of naked and like he should have gone for clothes. But Kame is naked too, and this is crazy.

"You know I won't tell anyone," he says. He thinks he could use more beer. Maybe Kame could use more beer too, to lighten the fuck up.

Kame's shoulders sag after a moment. Okay. Better. "I'll appreciate it if you keep that quiet, yes." Kame sets his bottle down at some distance, like he's never going to touch it again.

"What's it about?"

Kame shakes his head. "Sorry, confidential. You shouldn't even know there's anything to know."

Jin rolls his eyes at him. "What's so terrible about you negotiating with them?" he asks, and catches the flash in Kame's eyes. "I mean, if that's what you're doing. What would be _oh_ so horrible about that?"

"It would be horrible because it's premature and I'm not _ready_. My enemies are watching for me to be not ready."

Oh boy. "Aren't you being a bit extreme?"

"Am I?" Kame says sharply.

Jin feels a little less comfortable, a little more like he's treading water above the tiger shark's shadow. "It sounds kind of... I mean, enemies?"

Kame stares at him with a thin frown and a flat, tight mouth. And then he says very lightly, "Do you know what the best-paid job in the company outside of music is right now?"

"Um," Jin says. "No?"

"The three guys I'm paying to stick around Johnny and make sure he's never alone with a Junior."

"Johnny?" Jin doesn't follow. "What's he got to do with... why?"

Kame takes a deep breath. Maybe he even sighs. "Johnny's old, Jin. He's really old, and he's not... he's pretty confused these days. We don't tell the media just how confused. Hell, we don't tell most of the agency just how confused."

Johnny... he would be old now, yes. Confused? It's such a weird concept. Johnny runs the _world_.

"He must have had a hard grip on himself all these years," Kame says with a cold look off into nothing. "But he's confused now, and he doesn't have a grip on anything, and she's _watching_ him. She'd sell out her own uncle to swallow up the company, never mind the Juniors, _that's_ what I'm dealing with. _That's_ why nobody knows what I'm doing or not doing with SMAP and why I come out here to—"

Kame cuts off, but Jin's blinking at him as it finally filters through the static. "Johnny... is looking at Juniors?"

Kame's expression is clear, and Jin imagines Kame paying guys, guys to watch Johnny, and the Kame in his head is no shark, just a neurotic stick with spiky hair who told Jin of his dreams, and Jin thinks he's sinking, somewhere, through the bed.

"Don't look at me like that. I've aged out of his interest range."

Still. Kids, Johnny and kids, some Juniors are ten. "You're _protecting_ him?"

Kame gives a short laugh. "I like to think I'm also protecting the Juniors. But sure I'm protecting him. He's a confused old man, Jin. He's also my ticket to doing whatever I think is best for the bands she'd just as soon toss to the dogs, and I'm also protecting KAT-TUN when they're not off getting themselves caught _swinging_ , and Tackey and his lovechild and Tsubasa and the guys from Sexy Zone. You think I should let them all go to hell?"

But... he's not even taking all that in. He's just looking at Kame, thinks that Johnny likes Kame, and feels queasy.

"I've got three guys watching out," Kame says, all heat fading. "And he signs whatever I put in front of him."

He wants to say that none of that makes it better. But okay. Old, confused. Kame's game. Kame's looking out for people. "I bet I'm not supposed to know any of that, either," he says, and tries to make it light. It doesn't work that well.

Kame raises an eyebrow. "Sometimes I think you and 'supposed to' don't coexist in the same universe."

Jin laughs around the lump in his stomach. "Yeah, I've heard that before."

There's a long, deep breath, Kame closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

What now? What do you fit in after... that, about Johnny? Oh. "Who was caught swinging?"

Kame's turn to laugh, and Jin's almost surprised it sounds real. "Taguchi. And his girlfriend. Happy as clams, those two. And they meant nothing by it, they were just having some fun. Cleaning that one up took two exclusives for the reporter, and a hooker for his editor."

Just another day at the office. Jin blinks at the easy tone of it all, wondering what else Kame's done, and where he wants to go. But he doesn't even know what he wants to know most, so he says, "So they're still together?"

Kame nods, not without a touch of surprise. "Yes. Fancy that."

Lucky, Jin thinks, or maybe just more determination and suddenly he has to swallow. So little has lasted for Jin from that time. And maybe he shouldn't admit it; stick to prodding Kame and not feel more exposed than from any fucking. But then it sort of slips out. "Are you in touch with Pi?"

"Sometimes," Kame says. "Rarely. He's stable over there and she can't touch him. Why?"

"I don't have his email address. Or anything else." Kame gives him a curious look. "That's not confidential, is it?" Jin adds.

"I'll send you the address and his cell number," Kame says. "You think he'll talk to you?"

"I can try, right?" How much does Kame know about it?

"Sure," Kame says, and then, "He never said what happened. Did you fight?"

That's probably his answer right there. Jin wouldn't mind feeling woozy now, everything's way too sharp. "No," he says. "I thought it could hurt him to be... associated with me." The lump is in his throat now, great. "You know, with America and all."

He doesn't like the thing that shows in Kame's face, it looks too much like pity. "That was maybe the one good instinct you had back then."

Well, great. At least it wasn't for nothing. "He's doing okay, though, right?"

Kame doesn't ask him why he doesn't just google it. "Yes, he's fine. Like I said, stable. He's found his niche."

"The Asian market?" Jin never wanted it, and now he wonders if that was arrogance too.

That seems to wake Kame from his calm. There's a curious smile around his mouth. "You don't know?"

"Oh god," Jin says, because he knows that look on Kame's face, the 'let's have fun watching Jin freak out' look. "Just tell me."

"Our friend Yamapi is the darling of the gay community in the US."

Oh yes, Kame is relishing this. Jin closes his mouth quickly just to deny him the satisfaction.

"Pi is gay?" Okay, that sounded squeakier than intended.

"Not that I know of," Kame says. "It doesn't seem to bother anybody. He picked up a gay following on his first tour and a few years in he decided to run with it. He plays Texas and roundabouts a lot, they like him in a cowboy hat."

Jin always wanted it on his own terms. Now Pi went and became a gay icon, and he's still there, in America, doing shows. In cowboy hats.

"I'm glad he's doing well," Jin mumbles. Then his bottle is empty, and his head spinning from... all this.

"I should have some time Tuesday afternoon," Kame says.

"More meetings not happening in places I don't know of," Jin nods understandingly.

"Fuck you," Kame says.

"That's the idea, isn't it." Jin gets up when Kame does, meets his eyes.

Kame looks a little caught off guard but quickly recovers. "Correct. And the rest doesn't concern you." He gathers his clothes together. If he's got a meeting now, he'll still have the sweat on him, he'll smell the sex when he takes his clothes off at night.

Jin won't stare, and won't get distracted. He throws on his clothes, too.

When he's done, Kame has his wallet in his hand, is pulling out notes. Jin's glad one of them remembered about that; he needs that cash.

"Is it enough?" Kame says when Jin takes the money.

It's the usual amount. "Yeah." Kame has no idea about normal people's rent.

"I'll call then," Kame says, and Jin agrees that he will, and then he steps out into a bright Friday afternoon.

~

_to be continued_


	8. Week 6

## Week 6

### Saturday

Saturday is a blur of sun and giggling kids and the hoots and lights of rollercoasters.

He's good for his word, takes Akira and Sara and their friends to Odaiba, a lone dad with four kids who ends up carrying a backpack full of bentos, Akira's sweater, and two pink and purple handbags.

He strolls behind a lot, support staff. For Sara, daring Yumi-chan on breakneck rides is more interesting than sitting on Jin's shoulders, and Akira and Park-kun have important discussions about important school business while eating chocolate bananas.

Jin doesn't mind. He used to hate being ignored, but with his kids, it just means he's no longer special to have around, no big reunion fuss after weeks of missing them. Just a proper, normal dad. Jin's good, with the handbags.

It smells of roasted almonds where he lets them run off to a haunted house. Jin sips coffee while he waits. He's too old for haunted houses, definitely.

He wonders if Kame gets a break this weekend, or if he works all the time. He doesn't seem to have much else. Sad life, despite all the money.

The money.

He should be embarrassed and he's not, and he should hate it when he thinks of Kame's hands holding his hips, and it runs through him head to toe, the feeling of that in his memory.

That way it's useful to be ignored; he gets his head to himself. Doesn't have to combine body memory of Kame kneeling behind him with responsible parenting and questions about volcanoes and deadly rollercoaster accidents.

His horde relives the haunted house experience for the next twenty minutes, because apparently Yumi screamed but so did Akira, and whether one is a boy or a girl is a very important factor. Jin buys them candy, and some of those almonds for himself.

Kame hasn't fucked anybody in five years. Jin wonders what he's thinking now, if he's happy it took the edge off or mad at himself for the loss of control.

Jin doesn't even beat off much. He kind of stopped feeling like it. Not that that's relevant, to Kame or to the fact that Sara just skinned her knee and has her face scrunched up hard trying not to cry.

"Ow, that looks sore, baby girl," Jin says dropping his pack to dig down into it. "You're brave."

Sara sniffles but is keeping her mouth firmly shut. Akira is looking on very anxiously and Jin just wants to give him a hug, but you always deal with the bleeding kid first.

"It's bleeding," Yumi points out helpfully. "You should get stitches."

"It'll stop soon," Jin says to Sara, who's keeping her eyes fixed on him. "I'll just run some of our water over it so it gets clean, okay? You can whack me if it stings bad."

He's careful, slow, and he doesn't get whacked. It's harder to keep Yumi from poking her nose too close and getting in the way of water, hands, everything.

"Now you'll get a big..." Jin checks the box "...green band aid. Hey, that's great, you like green."

"You should hope it doesn't scar," Yumi tells Sara in a voice of terror. "Girls shouldn't have scars. You'll have to wear make-up on your _knee_."

"Girl pirates can have scars," Sara says. Her frilly sock has gotten stained, and her jaw's locked in that stubborn Sara way. "Right, Dad?"

"Absolutely," Jin nods, bagging the band aids and the rest of his dad utensils. "All pirates have scars, even the Pirate Queen. You've got to be brave to be a Pirate Queen."

"Yeah," Sara says to Yumi, like this is something even little kids know.

Yumi bites her lip and frowns. "What do girl pirates do?" She sounds grudgingly intrigued.

Akira, safely out of the reach of any fatherly hugs, squints at Sara when she drags Yumi away to explain booty and the on-ship chain of command. Jin's job would be handbag carrier and general dogsbody, he guesses.

He thinks for a moment, about pirates, and Kame, and commands. But then they arrive at some ginormous swing and all he's got time to think about is his queasy stomach as he watches the kids get buckled in, hoping they don't end up killing themselves just when he's on good terms with Meisa again.

 

### Sunday

On Sunday the phone beeps him out of leaden sleep. Jin gropes for it, sees Kame's number, and has a freight train of adrenaline slam into him.

Then he realizes it's an e-mail. Fucking nightshift.

Jin rolls on his back, blinks. _Sorry_ , it reads. _Yesterday was busy._ Then there's an American number and two email addresses, TomoTorrent@facebook.com and yt.04.2015@gmail.com. Jin can guess which is the personal one.

So now he has those. He's also slept for three fucking hours, and it's fucking Sunday. He rolls over, sticks his head under the covers for the darkness. But it's too hot even for him, and his head is dumb and full of Pi.

He gives up after half an hour or so. There goes his beauty sleep, but it's Kame's own fault.

Did he just think that? Oh, fuck it, who cares. He staggers to the bathroom.

When he comes out again he feels cleaner but no more awake. Before he can even think about how this might go down, he'll need another two hours and at least two coffees.

What time is is there anyway? It's funny, used to be he knew PDT like a second internal clock, and Texas was a bit East. It'll be eight or so.

Coffee. He makes it; drinks it; sits down with his phone. God he's nervous.

He could write an e-mail, of course. That doesn't depend on timezones. His head is blank, but he could explain, he'd have room to think this through.

Who is he kidding, he can't even think _now_. And he'd wait for an answer and if there's no answer...

He checks to make sure of the time, and why does staring at fucking Google Maps make him depressed?

Eight was right. That means calling's okay for another three hours, for normal people in this job. Unless he waits till tomorrow. Tonight he's in his box.

Eight years, give or take. What's another day?

He drinks his coffee. His stomach hates it.

He needs to think. A walk through the June heat makes him sweaty, endless pavement and pounding beats, and he thought he'd have better ideas without his four walls closing in on him but his brain isn't playing. Broken record, stuck on 'Hi…'.

Three hours of sleep, and a Bakanishi brain.

When he gets home he has another coffee, and his stomach _really_ hates it and his hands hate it, but all the waiting in the world's not going to change that.

The American dial tone makes him feel old, so many years since he heard it all the time, years since he heard it at all. He almost hangs up because that, on top of how he doesn't even know if Pi—

"Hello?" a voice says in English on the other end, and it's all just gone, his head stuttering on empty.

"Hi. It's Akanishi. Jin. Hi."

There's silence, stretching. But that, he had expected. "Jin. Hi. Are you—"

At least Pi knew where to place this Akanishi guy calling him after eight years of nothing. He waits, but next Pi says distantly, "Guys, can you finish with unloading? I'll be outside, I need a moment."

His English is so good.

He hears shuffling and noise and his own hammering heart. Then Pi, in Japanese again, "I have a gig in one hour."

A gay gig in Texas. Jin wishes he was there. "Yeah," he says.

It sounds better than _I have five minutes_ or _What do you want?_ or _Fuck off and die_.

"How are you?" he tries.

"I'm good," Pi says. "Working, keeping busy. You?"

"I'm good too." If the line was any better, Pi would know he's a liar. "Doing stuff, you know."

"How are your kids?"

His kids. Pi's never even met Sara. "They're fine. They're great."

Silence during which Jin wonders what on earth he could ask about, or say. The weather in Texas?

"And how's Meisa?" Pi says.

"Well, it's... she's fine too."

More silence. You could write a song about that silence.

"I'm sorry I— this feels so weird," Jin says. "I should have called sooner."

"Really," Pi says. "How about you should have not stopped in the first place, you asshole? What the fuck was that about, why'd you stop answering my messages?" It sounds pissed off and hurt and for the first time Jin wants to laugh.

"I..."

"You haven't paid your phone bill in eight years? What the fuck, Jin?"

"I'm sorry, it just…" Okay, to hell with pride. "I was afraid, okay?"

"A… what? When? _Before_ you started ignoring me?"

"Not of you, I was afraid I'd ruin things for you."

"By talking to me." Pi sounds like this is the greatest load of bullshit anybody's ever tried to sell him and he's not pleased.

"By... if you were associated with me," Jin says. "Everyone was hating me and I _knew_ people were getting shit just for talking to me, and then you went to America and it was bad enough that I'd gone there first and I didn't want to create any _more_ problems for you. And also I'm a loser." There it is, in a nutshell. He's breathing hard. "I missed you. But you didn't need to go around with losers."

"I can hang around losers if I want to," Pi says furiously. "Or dumbfucks."

Jin's bones feel suddenly wobbly, but he can breathe again. And smile. "Yeah," he says, "you can, but you've got to allow the dumbfuck to feel kind of responsible."

"Huh," Pi says. And then, "Dumbfuck."

"I'm really sorry."

"You could at least have told me why." Petulant Pi tone, taking him back fifteen years and more.

He rolls his eyes towards the cracked plaster on his ceiling. "And watch you make statements about how dumbfucks are friends too on national TV."

"I—"

"Yes, you would've." Listening to him now, Jin's just as sure of it as he was then.

There's a pause at the other end, Pi giving in without admitting it. Just like he always did. His voice when he talks again doesn't sound quarrelsome at all. "But god, Jin… eight fucking years…"

"Yeah, I… that wasn't the plan. I thought until things had settled, you'd got established, just… time just went by and nothing ever got better and suddenly it was all so far away."

The silence doesn't scare him now. That's just them sorting their brains. Which is always good, when they usually manage about one and a half between them.

"So how are you, really?" Pi asks.

Jin draws a breath and suddenly his filters are off, the sun shining in on him with a sting. "I haven't been doing so well," he says. "Better right now, actually. But it's been…" Lonely. He can't even say how much. "I'm not really seeing many people. Most of the old troop is gone, I got nothing to do with the company anymore..." He takes a breath. "I see my kids when I can."

"When you—"

"Meisa and I split," he says. "Five years ago."

"I read about that," Pi admits, and sure, yeah, Jin's last great tour through the gossip columns, his victory lap. "But Meisa, she's not... I mean, you two don't—"

"No! We're still friendly, she's great, just..." And then it all tumbles out, the hunt for jobs, the lack of money, the stress, his kids and his shitty apartment and the death of his marriage. "Loser," he says, and figures Pi can hear the shrug through the line.

"You should come out here," Pi says, so forceful that it doesn't even hurt that it's impossible.

"I can't," Jin says.

"No, I meant— Oh, of course. Your kids. I'm sorry. I just meant..." He hears an annoyed, familiar sigh. "I'm so glad you called."

Jin nods at the phone and has a lump in his throat, and Pi is silent too. They're a pair of mope-heads.

"How did you get this number, though?" Pi says at last.

"I asked Kame. Keeper of all useful information."

Pi whistles softly through his teeth. "I didn't think _he_ still had time for dumbfucks."

Jin can't help a little laugh. "It's not like that, it's…" How is it? Complicated. Unexpected. "I don't think he's got time for anybody who isn't a problem or the solution to one."

Pi laughs, too. It's got a sharpness to it. "That sounds about right."

"You see him much?" Jin asks. He's got no idea. Doesn't know what he would prefer, for these two to be friends without him or just colleagues, and if it's different from what he'd have preferred an hour ago.

"Not really," Pi says. "He's trying to keep me out of Japan, I've only been back for the mini-tours in the last two years."

"Oh," Jin says. _He's safe over there._ "I didn't know it was that bad."

There's a pause. Jin can hear cars in the background. "It's not bad. I mean, not like with you. I'm okay. But there's a lot of weird shit going down at the company and we figured it was best for me to stay out of it if I can. Kame's been helpful. He's just..."

It hangs there. Jin doesn't even try to finish it.

"Cold," Pi says. "He's changed. I barely see him when I'm there and then he's got managers on me every minute, like I'm some Junior who can't manage to pee by himself. Like I'll go on stage naked or get some chick pregnant..."

It still makes his heart skip a beat, even as a figure of speech. Jin stares and thinks it fits, Kame being determined that nobody's going to pull an Akanishi on _his_ watch.

"God, sorry," Pi says. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Jin says. "But he should trust you."

"He trusts nobody." It's sobering when Pi sounds cold, too.

"But your stuff is going well," Jin says, "right? Having fun with cowboys?"

"You know about the cowboys?" Pi asks, sounding nervous and much warmer.

"I heard," Jin grins back.

"They're... mostly gay," Pi says, and Jin thinks he can hear him _blushing_ and he's snickering like he's twelve.

"Heard that, too."

"Ha ha ha ha." Pi is rolling his eyes, Jin just knows it.

"I think you were smart," Jin says. "I'm happy it worked out for you."

A door slams, and Pi calls, "Yes, guys, in a minute!" To Jin he says, "Well, it's not baseball stadiums, but yeah. I like it. They don't even mind when I'm dating. It's kind of relaxing."

Jin laughs again. And he wants to hear everything, every little thing.

"Do you need to go back?" he asks.

"I should," Pi says slowly. "Yeah."

"That's fine," Jin says, though the lump in his throat hasn't got that message and probably makes him sound weird.

"Listen, man. You call me again. You hear that? You fucking _call_ me. If you don't, I'll run away from Kamenashi's watchdogs and kill you and stab you. And send me a damn picture of your kids. My e-mail is y-t-0-4—"

"I've got your e-mail," Jin says. "I'll call." And he's got a hundred things going through his head at once, Pi being busy and weird time zones and not wanting to be a pest, but he'll sort it, somehow. "I promise. And I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Pi huffs. "You take care of yourself. Dumbfuck. Send me e-mail."

"I _will_ ," Jin says, and knows they could go around for another ten minutes, so he decides to be a grown-up. "Now go be gay and badass. I have to go to work."

Five more minutes after all, because now Pi wants to know about the work. It's just so hard to let go.

But eventually Jin manages to hang up. A click, and it's quiet. He stares at his hand which is tight around his phone, and it takes him a moment to remember that he's not a convict who's allowed one call a month.

He can even e-mail straight away. He sorts through his phone until he finds the picture he took of Sara and Akira outside the haunted house and attaches it to a quick mail, subject line: _My kids, braver than me_.

Inside, he writes, "Jin's kids, post 00001 of 75000, please stay tuned," and when he hits send, he's already grinning when he thinks of the reply.

 

### Tuesday

The box is long but uneventful, uneventful and long. He cycles home into the Monday dawn and then he just sleeps and sleeps, and sleeps some more. He wakes up around noon when he's sweaty but he just tosses the blanket off and fades back into a warm haze, whispers of air tickling him and his own weight holding him down and safe.

His evening passes with talking to the kids, e-mailing Pi. Not much to do around the apartment. It's Tuesday morning when he starts on minor things, tidying the table, wiping down the bathroom.

The phone rings at quarter to three. By now Jin's assigned Kame a ringtone. Makes life so much easier, to know it's not the boss or the kids.

"I can be there in an hour," Kame says.

"I'll be in," Jin says.

There's a short pause, like Kame might be wondering too whether he should say something about songs, or beds, or other useful things. But he doesn't and neither does Jin. "I'll see you then."

"Yeah. Later."

Jin puts the phone down. So, later. Today.

He can probably assume the bed is a yes.

And it feels weirder than last week, when he didn't think anything, didn't do anything. Not like opening the wardrobe; pulling out the futon; thinking about getting ready. Actually setting everything up for Kame to fuck him.

The futon falls out heavy and unwieldy, but that's familiar. He rolls it out and smooths the corners and feels nothing, until he imagines Kame coming in and seeing the bed ready.

He could just say no.

Of course he could, that's just a fact.

He stands up and looks down, and there's the bed, lying there, harmless.

Jin's spine tingles, but his stomach feels like he swallowed a rock, and damn. What was that about complicated?

Jin doesn't like complicated anymore. Bed's there, Kame will be, and he knows what's what when he doesn't _think_ about it, so maybe he'll just, oh, play Avenger Pigs in Outer Space while he waits.

He's setting some new personal records in the first half hour. Then it gets harder, there's more of that tingle and Jin listening out for the sounds outside changing.

He won't hear the car. But he likes being prepared.

At quarter to four, he puts the game down, just sits there. It's weird, but no one will ever know.

At four he gets up and makes tea because really, should be any second now. Surely it can't take that long to park.

Tea made, he drinks it. Rinses the cup. He eyes the bed and feels more stupid by the ticking clicking second.

Kame is never late. If Kame is late, can't he send a fucking e-mail?

Should he _worry_?

But, really, chances of traffic accident versus chance of rising company overlord getting pulled into an extra meeting, even Jin can do that math. Still, did they take his phone away?

Fifteen minutes later he has a sudden braincell collision and realizes that if rising company overlords die in gruesome car wrecks, it's going to be on the news. So, he turns on the TV. His low-tech, low-function, doesn't-bring-the-beer TV.

Kame is retarded.

Also, from checking several channels and the info texts, probably not dead. Just late, the jerk. And Jin should not be _waiting_ for jerks.

Only he didn't exactly have plans. Great, so now he's watching TV like every other bum with nothing to do.

Entertainment news. Jin always switched that off faster than you can say KAT-TUN. It's why he's never had a clue about Pi or the company.

He leaves it on for the moment. Doesn't recognize the chick in black or her raps. Doesn't recognize— oh god, wait, is that Chinen? New drama contract, first time playing a family father, and Jin feels old. An old bum watching TV. Maybe just as well he doesn't have beer.

Then Nino's face flashes on screen, surrounded by pink and yellow question marks. The presenter girls who were just discussing Justin Bieber's second marriage are covering their mouths and reporting a dead secret rumor about Arashi's Ninomiya being offended by a Junior he was trying to help.

One of the girls is half, pretty. Both of them are more direct than Jin remembers girls on TV. Showbiz moves on, too. "Apparently he said Ninomiya-san is 'just too much' and 'gets on his nerves," the Japanese one breathes in an excited whisper, but unfortunately they don't have statements from anyone yet. Statements. About two guys not totally loving each other. Yeah, such a scandal.

So some things don't move on.

There comes an actual Arashi montage. Maybe they paid the guy to insult Nino, just for the exposure; Jin's almost tempted to see if they have a single coming out this week.

But no, when it's over, the hushed Japanese girl reports how saddened Arashi's management is that some young people in the business are no longer being adequately trained and taught.

That's when it clicks.

Gossip, scandal, exposure, fine. But this is vicious and it goes beyond some kid from FUNky5, Jin suddenly gets what this is about, and where Kame is likely to be.

"We'll inform you at once of any developments," promises the other one, and then there's a newspaper article about a mother and daughter starring in the same movie, very heartwarming. The little girl is cute. Jin checks his phone for the time.

Almost an hour late now. This thing doesn't look over.

He tries to find it on NuCC, but that's just showing an outdoorsy adventure with KITTY-KISS-ME. Fair enough, a channel that's practically founded on Johnny's Entertainment exclusives won't air their dirty laundry. He's just zapping back to one of the traditional channels when his phone buzzes.

_Won't make it today. Work came up._

Yeah, no kidding.

Jin looks at the e-mail, wondering briefly if Kame typed that in some bathroom stall at the company. It weirds him out to have Kame images in his head and how clear they are.

The bed's right there. Fresh sheet, neat.

Not happening today.

But Jin's still good for his rent, this week and even next.

He bites his lip. He should probably put the futon away again.

Something like resentment is churning in him, as if he could have been doing stuff. Folding towels, counting his toes. Whole rounds of Pig Avenging he missed out on.

He kicks at the futon vaguely. He's had entire days when he didn't put it away from _morning_.

Maybe he just wants to take a walk.

*~*~*

Pi's latest album takes him once through his neighborhood. When he comes back, FujiTV is still going on about Arashi, and FUNky5, and he watches with one eye while he starts making his dinner, and while he's eating he finds out it's grown big on other channels too, and that he can expect a formal apology in a couple of hours.

He checks his phone for the time. It's eight now.

He really wishes he could just think that this bullshit is bullshit and doesn't matter. But Jin knows all about how bullshit matters if you're living in that bubble.

The guys from FUNky5 look about eighteen in the clips that pop up here and there. Though who knows, maybe Jin's wrong, maybe they're old clips. He's got no idea why he feels so on edge.

It's a very edgy edge after another hour of the 'scandal', and then there's a press conference, something live. Five young guys, in suits. Taking it seriously then. They look nervous.

Jin recognizes two of them now, they did ads for the new cell phone he couldn't afford last year. One with hair dyed a light shade of auburn, the other dark. It's the auburn guy who apologizes, smooth and professional, on behalf of the entire band for causing a disturbance and for not sitting on the member who's known to have trouble expressing himself properly.

That's the introduction for Mr Dark, who seems very sheepish indeed. But Jin can tell he's well-briefed, and at the back of his mind he's thinking that they probably spent the last two hours rehearsing this. Of course he didn't mean to insult his admired senpai Ninomiya-san, he was just expressing his frustration because he knows he'll never be as good at anything. And that, well, that came across wrong, because he's not good with words. And he's so sorry.

His list of people to apologize to reads like other people's Oscar acceptance speeches and Jin wants to roll his eyes, but part of him admires the thoroughness, too. He pictures Kame sitting the boy down and going 'right, who else, what about your parents?' Terrifying the living daylights out of him.

After they've all been apologizing for like ten minutes and Jin thinks they must really be done now, Mr Dark produces a shy smile, the first of this whole presentation, and the other one produces a guitar for him.

"I was so sorry, I really thought about it a lot," Mr Dark says, "and somehow it turned into a song, so I wrote it down and Mori-chan helped me with some tricky bits, and I wanted to dedicate it to Ninomiya-san, and hope for his forgiveness."

The journalists are lapping it up.

It's not a bad song, either. Basic, and the press con acoustics weren't meant for this, but that just makes it sound more real. And the guy can sing. Someone's tracked down Nino and they're streaming in his reaction, and this circus is going to continue _forever_.

Nice save, though. The fans are going to love it. Only a real asshole's going to hold a grudge.

It's weird when he remembers his life when it was like that; out in public. Even for Kame it's different, pulling strings, nowhere to be seen there except in his fingerprints all over it.

Maybe even the song. Kame had a thing for simple, sometimes. It doesn't fit with the whole looming overlord persona.

Jin wants a beer. Beerless bastard Kame, leaving him dry _again_.

Everyone on screen is very aflutter. Next time these guys go on Music Japan, they can tell the story of how Ninomiya-san met them at the company and they went for a meal together and he gave Mr Dark an old pair of jeans. Jin's tired.

The main act's clearly over now, the screen switching back to commentators, bits of the performance being replayed and picked apart. Jin watches it make its way through some other channels, Nino being pressed about his reaction, everyone pretending to be friends again.

Once it's clear that there's nothing but repetition, he turns the TV off. Sucks it up and has tea instead of non-existing beer and spreads out on his futon, not even caring anymore. He stares at the ceiling. The grubby white's not very inspirational.

His phone rings. With the Kame ringtone. It actually rings twice before Jin remembers to move.

"Yeah?" he says, half-lying on his stomach from the scramble. Well, nobody here to see.

There's quiet at the other end. _What?_ "Good evening. It's me."

"Yeah, I know," Jin says. "Still at the circus?"

Another pause. And this guy always claims he's got no time to waste. "You caught that, did you," Kame says eventually.

"You know me, always up with the latest gossip." There's a thing that could be another pause, and Jin says, "Nice touch with the song."

"Thank you," Kame says. "I thought so, too."

"Did you write it?"

"What? No. We just threw it together and made sure it had the right words in it," Kame says, sounding distant and like it's the last thing on his mind. Jin's weirdly disappointed.

"Anyway, good move," he says.

"We're recording it tonight, it'll sell like hot cakes after this."

That's true. Even smarter then. The silence next is mutual.

"Anyway," Kame says. "I called to say that I am sorry if I inconvenienced you. I don't like that I couldn't let you know earlier." Kame's priorities: reliability and keeping time.

"Whatever," Jin says. He doesn't really know how to respond. "I'm just missing the beer." He doesn't even know what he _thinks_. Or why Kame is calling him when... "Where are you?"

"In the office. It's calmed down now. I'm going down to the studio in an hour when they're ready, keep an eye on things."

Jin wonders what Kame's office might look like, how Kame's sitting there. He'll be alone, because he's talking to Jin, and it's night and no, Jin is not thinking of Lex Luthor in some dark chrome and steel tower, looking out over... Tokyo.

No.

"Can't let the little children go unsupervised," he says instead.

"It would seem necessary." Kame sounds chilly. "As proven today."

"Shame you can't put them all on a leash, huh?"

"Shame I can't _gag_ them," Kame says roughly.

Yeah, that would be Kame. Leash and leather, everyone's boss, and Jin's hips move just a little on the futon because Kame threatened him with underpants and...

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," he says, liking the way it rolls off his tongue.

"I'd like for people to be less fucking dumb," Kame says. "That would make my life easier."

Since when does Kame call him to talk about how easy or not his life is?

"Anyway," Kame says, and somehow Jin doesn't like the sound of that, it sounds final. "I don't know when I'll next have time. Things are what they are over here. I'll call you."

"Work work work," Jin says, trying to feel mocking rather than discarded, but Kame has already hung up.

What the hell? Asshole can't even say good night?

He drops the phone somewhere out of reach and lies back, because whatever.

Well, they'll see. Didn't stay away that long last time, Jin doesn't think it took _much_ to get Kame to find a gap in his sacred schedule.

He stares up blankly, and now he's got that song in his head driving him crazy, and feels offended by the crummy white ceiling.

~

_to be continued_


	9. Week 7

## Week 7

### Thursday

Sara stands at the top of the table in her new purple dress, her face red, and not from the eight flickering candles. She's making hamster cheeks in concentration, and Jin remembers stage fright, that crippling hot freeze.

But Sara plunges on. "Thank you for coming to my birthday," she says very seriously to the family party of six. She wanted to give her own birthday speech, like the grown-ups. "I'm eight years old now and I will do my best next year in school, and learn things at home and help my mother. Thank you mom for the cooking and everybody for my presents." She seems out of breath, but then she smiles. "Okay, that's it." And she bows.

Jin wants to sweep her up and hug her, but holds himself in check with superhuman restraint. It's her moment, everyone beaming at her, Meisa and Jin's mom and Meisa's mother and even Akira, who was arguing with her about the whipped cream on the pudding just ten minutes ago.

She's a beauty and a genius and they're the bravest kids he knows.

Jin clears his throat unobtrusively, and then he gets to concentrate on holding out his plate for a piece of the cake.

"What were your other presents, Sara-chan?" Jin's mom asks. She gave Sara a handbag from the latest popular girl brand, purple and silver and sparkly, perfect with the dress. It'll go well with Jin's parka the next time he gets to carry it around.

"I got my shoes," Sara looks under the table, "and granny Sachi gave me the earrings and the bracelet and the necklace and Akira gave me the bunny."

The bunny is a soft squishy toy with floppy ears. Akira bought it for her in Okinawa with his pocket money, and Jin got a preview when he picked him up at the station last night. They haven't decided on a name for it yet.

"And mom gave me the puppy shelter game for the Wii," Sara goes on, and adds, "and a rolling chair for my desk," conscientious even about practical gifts.

"And what did your daddy give you?" Kuroki-san asks her with a bright smile.

Sara beams. "A surprise. He says it'll arrive on Saturday."

"Oh," Kuroki-san says, shooting Jin a glance before putting on an enthusiastic face for Sara. "I'm sure it'll be an excellent surprise, if you have to wait some extra days for it."

Won't it _just_. Jin smiles at her, perfect polite ex-son-in-law, and for once it costs him nothing, not even a cringe.

"You have to come on Saturday too!" Sara demands of both her grannies. "We have cool games."

Jin eats his cake, a fluffy creamy composition that he should probably chip in for. Meisa is getting a little stressed about Saturday's madhouse extravaganza, and Jin will be spending Saturday night in his box and can't even help with the clean-up.

But they all appreciate it if he makes money. Whichever way.

He catches his mother's eye. She hasn't asked him about work yet, because she steers clear of the subject in front of Meisa's mother. Jin's got a good answer now, his private functions, omitting the private fucking, but he's kind of glad anyway. Usually all he needs to say is that he's looking.

He scoops up some biscuit crumbs and stares and then realizes right now it's a lie, he's not looking. He hasn't looked at all, not since last week, since...

He's got half a piece of cake left and no appetite.

What has he been thinking? He needs a job, he needs an income. Just because he's _got_ an income... he can't keep letting Kame...

He really can't.

He looks at Meisa's mom, all his swagger gone and hopes she doesn't notice. Maybe she's right about him, thinking him lazy, maybe Reio's right that Jin always takes the easy way.

Sara manages to eat two pieces of the cake, and Akira puts away three. Jin admires the dress and the shoes again and is grateful not to be the center of attention. He gets to hold No-name Flopsybunny while Sara tries to put her new jewellery on by herself, under Meisa's watchful eye. With her eyes sparkling harder than the handbag, she's a true little princess.

Jin helps Meisa clear away the dishes, leaving the grandmothers to twirl and compliment Sara.

"Sorry I can't help on Saturday," he says while they rinse the plates off. "Just, you know."

Thinking about the box is a relief right now.

"It's no problem," Meisa says, "I'll deal. Akira will help me, he promised. And your mom would if I asked her."

"When's your mom flying back?"

"Monday," Meisa says. "She's staying over the weekend."

Outside Sara is doing a little dance, to lots of encouragement. Jin and Meisa share a look in their quiet corner, the parent corner.

"It always feels strange," Jin says.

"Yeah. Can you believe it? Eight years." Meisa gives him a funny little smile. "She was smaller than that bunny."

"And wrinklier," Jin says, and even though she laughs he can tell it's hitting her as hard as him. She looks at him, and for a moment they're not divorced and Jin's not a failure, and he wraps an arm around her.

"And here I am glad when she learns how to put her socks away," Meisa sighs, leaning against him. They still fit together easily, catching glimpses of the living room through the gap in the door.

Sara is trying to persuade Jin's mom to play a girl-eating monster.

"Wouldn't it be nice," Jin says, "if they got cleaner but stayed this small and cute."

Meisa laughs again. "We'd save a fortune on shoes, too," she says, hugging him around the waist and holding on.

 

### Friday

He's out getting breakfast Friday at noon when he sees the headline.

_Tanaka Koki, animal abuse._

For the first time in forever, he buys the paper.

He leaves the bento to sit, barely takes the time to shove his lukewarm coffee in the microwave. Tanaka Koki, 37, member of scandal-ridden band KAT-TUN, is suspected of setting a cat on fire at a party at his house.

"No fucking way," Jin mutters.

It's a real article, longer than a rumor mention. Spends a long paragraph on Nakamaru and two lines on Jin before getting to the point, or what there is of it. Sometime in the early morning, after great amounts of alcohol had been consumed, Tanaka Koki bet that his cat could race up a tall fence and, to encourage it, lit a lighter below its belly.

They've picked a photo of Koki in his second bald phase, with a fake tattoo on his neck. Subtle.

Right, Koki, party, yes. Cat... sure, Koki's always had a zoo at his house. Jin's coffee goes cold a second time because he's that distracted. He actually thinks about calling Kame.

But Kame will be busy, of course. Dealing with Koki, and cats, managing damage and being his high-handed self. No time for calls from the concerned public.

So he turns on the TV. The usual places have the article blown up to A2 with gesticulating and speculating presenters, but there's nothing new, nothing at all.

You'd think somebody would send the JSPCA to check on that cat, clear this up. You'd think Koki would _invite_ them.

Jin does laundry, it's long overdue and he needs some decent clothes for the couple of hours he can spend at Sara's big party tomorrow. In between loads, and hanging stuff up, and again when he's folding it, he checks the TV, but nothing seems to be moving.

They must be doing stuff. In the background, maybe. This'll be another day when Kame doesn't get to sleep before morning.

He checks taxis, also for tomorrow. Just this once, it'll be worth it to spend some money so he can stay longer, and still get to his job. He also calls at the ice cream place and probably earns himself a Most Annoying Customer award but he's a little nervous about everything with the duck working out, when the duck is his present.

Meisa's sent him pictures from yesterday, and he sends a few on to Pi, who last sent him photos from the Grand Canyon.

Jin looks at job ads. It takes him an hour and a few tea breaks before he's past that barrier of suck where he can write polite and eager e-mails, and he manages three before getting fed up. It's better than being ashamed of himself tomorrow at the party. Kame's not his _job_. Kame doesn't even know when he won't have to deal with bullshit for long enough to come over. Jin's not waiting.

It's funny how the time passes. Later in the evening, a company spokesperson issues a full denial on the cat affair, but nothing more.

Cats and uppity Juniors. Well, the cat would be worse, if it were true. Technically speaking, Jin's got no reason to care if the company's eating itself.

He gets an answer from Pi, early morning message, saying his kids are adorable and Jin really did the world a favour because Meisa is much too hot to be married anyway, and Jin laughs because from Pi it's funny.

Would be great to see him. Would be great to just... go.

Some day. Maybe if he's in the box long enough, he can take a holiday. Maybe if he lets Kame gag him or tie him up or something, there's enough in that for a plane ticket.

Pi hinted he could pay for it. Jin said no, but Pi's the first person where he's not been embarrassed, where he might change his mind.

He stares at that crummy white ceiling for a bit and has fun with a daydream. Evening dream. Him and Pi, in some huge-ass American car. They'd send Kame pictures and Kame would be jealous. It would be wonderful.

Except Kame's an ass who's dealing with cats, and Jin can't get away, and Pi would probably be missed by his gay fans.

It's late, and he doesn't want to think about cats anymore. Best to wait till tomorrow. He watches a movie, a superhero thing, it'll run until midnight. It's not creepy, and Jin's resigned to the dubbed stuff on TV. It's easier at night, too, going straight into his brain the way English doesn't anymore.

It's so easy he almost falls asleep.

When the phone rings, he's lost track of where the movie is. Maybe he was asleep, maybe his brain is scrambled because... that's Kame's ringtone, again. It's quarter to midnight. He's awake with that rush, _kids are sick_ rush, which is _dumb_ , oh fucking hell.

"Hello?" Jin says, sounding cool, and exhaling slowly when it's actually Kame's voice at the other end.

"Hello. I know it's late. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah," Jin says vaguely. "What is it?"

There's a long silence. Jin wakes up enough to remember the cat. "I could be at your place in half an hour," Kame says eventually. "If you're awake now."

"Yeah," Jin says, looking around where he's sitting on the futon. "I'm awake." But he's not changing the sheets again.

"Good," Kame says, and then there's a click.

Well. Probably means the cat is dealt with. A little reward on the way home for the crisis master.

Jin shaves, he doesn't need _that_ bullshit. Showers, too, it wakes him up, makes him feel a bit more steady. Half an hour's notice in the middle of the night, and Jin doesn't know what he finds most outrageous about all of this.

Let's see if Kame even remembers the beer.

He washes with his eyes closed and doesn't think of Kame showering, of last time, of Kame anything.

Just half an hour. The rush even helps.

And then the half hour is gone, and Jin's barely dressed again because he's not waiting for the jerk _naked_ , and no Kame. Of course no Kame.

Maybe the cat twitched. Maybe Ueda got caught in a park with his pants down. Kame's office, crisis central.

Jin considers drying his hair. But the walls are thin and his hair dryer is noisy. He clears a few senbei crumbs off the sheets instead.

Kame arrives ten minutes later.

"That wasn't half an hour," Jin points out as Kame steps up and the door closes on them.

"I got held up at the office," Kame snaps, and what's _he_ doing being pissy here?

"More cat drama? Did you write a song for her too?"

Kame holds out a plastic bag like he wants to punch Jin with it. "He didn't do it."

"Of _course_ he didn't do it," Jin says as he takes the beer, and then they both pause. Everything's quiet.

People change, Jin remembers. Stares at this Kame, frown and entitlement and stress lines, Kame taking off his jacket calm and tight and like he's trying not to turn it into a weapon, and…

"Of course he didn't," Jin grumbles. "Why didn't you just produce his damn cat?"

"He hasn't _got_ a cat, his last cat died three months ago, old and fat and happy, and I don't know what else the bitch lined up for this. It was supposed to be dealt with for the night." He glares as if something about this is Jin's fault. "This is a fucking nuisance."

Well, yeah. So's being visited at half past midnight by Lex Luthor in a snit. "I'm impressed you're taking time out for adult entertainment," Jin says, putting the beers on his little table.

Kame stares at him, a look that goes right through Jin. "I'm not assuming it'll take _long_ ," he says pointedly. The look says _Why are you still talking and not naked._ Jin's almost got to stop himself physically from undressing.

He picks up two beer bottles instead, slowly. "Maybe it should," he says. "Maybe you should revisit your work-life balance." He lets Kame hear the little crack of the cap. "Have a beer." He holds one out. Kame tries to stare him down but Jin just locks his arm.

When Kame takes the bottle, Jin's surprised it doesn't spill. He has a small sip, eyes on Jin all the way.

Fine.

There's a shrill bleep.

"Fuck," Kame says, and fishes out his cell. Thumbs the screen. " _Fuck._ "

He sticks the bottle out at Jin and Jin takes it. Watches Kame wipe his screen over and over until he presses it almost savagely.

Somewhere, a phone is ringing and someone's going to be unhappy. Jin sits down on his chair, settling in for the show.

"Kamenashi," Kame says. "I thought I was _clear_."

Whoever's on the other end says something sharp and loud.

Kame's stare is hot and angry but his voice is perfect ice. "I read that. I was rather surprised."

Jin has a sip of his own beer. So far it's not coming together. He notes that Kame doesn't pace. He doesn't gesture. He just stands there. Ice.

"No, I saw. I admit I didn't realize you had the ambition to be the first Johnny's to come out of the closet," Kame says very politely. "But I always support ambition."

He... what? What the ever... _what_? Jin stares. The voice on the end of the line is quiet for a beat; for two. Then there's yelling, Jin's making out swear words and _hypocrite_ and _goddamn faggot asshole_ and _liar_.

Kame keeps standing there, calm and cold. "You're welcome to try," he says when it dies down. "The difference between us is that I don't leave my dirty laundry all over Tokyo like a horny teenager."

Jin doesn't dare move, either.

"Matsumoto. I've had a long day. This is the deal. All it takes is that you were at that fucking party. You can either get with the fucking program, or you can see how you like retirement. Maybe that flight attendant you blew in the whirlpool at the Four Seasons will take you in, that could be very romantic. Very happily ever after."

It's all quiet.

When the words start up again at the other end they're no longer loud enough for Jin to understand. Kame checks his watch.

"You have time to make the morning editions, someone'll be grateful for your astonished reaction to these rumours." He listens again; shrugs eventually. "Blame the bitch who manages you. I didn't start this." Then he straightens again. "As you like. But for now you'll do this for me."

Some other comment, and Kame says, "See to it. I'll call tomorrow," and then that's that. He puts his phone on the low table, next to the remaining beers.

Jin needs a moment to sort out what the fuck just happened. This was about a _cat_.

"You're blackmailing people?" Not that it's a question. Jin was right here. It just blows his mind. "Over being _gay_?"

Kame stares at him like he needs to remember where he is. His eyes go guarded when he does. "It's amazingly effective."

"I bet," Jin says, and when he stands up he sees the snap that goes through Kame. "And you don't think that's a bit of an asshole move?" He doesn't even know, he doesn't really _care_ , but this... "A bit rich coming from you?"

"No." Kame's tone is clipped. "I'm discreet."

"You didn't get laid in five years. That's not _discreet_. That's pathetic." Whatever this strange burn is, it's boiling in his stomach and making his hairs stand on end.

"I can control myself," Kame says, but he's a whole lot less bossy watching Jin like he's not quite understanding the script, or himself. His eyes skate over Jin as Jin steps closer. "Not my problem if other people can't."

"Really." And it feels nice to be sure about something. "That's why you're here at half past midnight, paying my rent."

Kame's eyes flash. "I can stop paying your rent if you're having a crisis of conscience."

"Blackmailing me too? Put up or shut up?" But he won't shut up and he knows... he thinks he _knows_. He presses the bottle at Kame, he's close enough. "Drink your beer."

"I shouldn't," Kame says. Yeah, doesn't that go for many things. He takes the bottle, just like he took Jin, bad ideas all around, and Jin's pulsing with power.

He has a drink himself, a long one, and he feels Kame's eyes, on his neck and on his mouth. No, he hasn't forgotten how to look good. There's Kame, superboss, standing there like he can't move either way between Jin and the door, still as a rock and shaking in his skin, Jin can _feel_ it.

He gets right in Kame's space. "You jonesing?"

Kame snorts. But it's cut off, frozen. "Please."

Jin opens the first button of his shirt. "No?" Kame's eyes catch there, and Jin goes for the next one. "You sure?" He's drunk, soaring high, flaunting and baiting and every time Kame swallows it jolts under his skin. "For a moment there I thought your hands were shaking." He drops the shirt, not even the bottle makes it awkward.

Kame's breathing hard with all his precious control. And turned on, Jin's open about checking that out. He slides a hand down his stomach, his hips finding invisible music. Lets Kame get a nice long look as he goes for the buttons on his jeans.

The flash is sharp, hard heat in Kame's eyes, and he grabs Jin and spins him, beer is splashing from them both, and Kame pulls him back, his cock against Jin's ass. "Fine, so this is for you," Kame says, rough against his ear. "And you know where I'm going to put it."

Jin shudders, choking on a breath, or whatever smart thing he was going to say. Not needed. Point made. Kame's hand on his stomach, imitating, going for his button, the zipper, pushing down fabric until he's rubbing Jin's cock through his underwear.

"And look who likes the idea," Kame says. "Unless you get it up for wads of cash these days."

He yanks Jin's pants down, tells him to step out of them. For a long moment, Jin's held against Kame's suit, the fabric all along his back and legs, the pressure against his ass. Reminder or taster, and the air gets warm and dense. Then Kame prods the back of his knees and gives him a push. His beer splashes again as he drops down. He catches himself, puts the bottle out of reach, and then he's there. Naked.

Breathe. He remembers that.

Kame's foot is between his knees, tapping left, right. "Spread." He does, and it's gone, and he feels Kame's stare, clothes rustling and plastic snapping. "That looks good on you," Kame says from some distance.

What the _fuck_. He almost turns but then Kame's there, sinking down behind him, good, and is pushing Jin's head down, _bad_ , oh god, what if he won't remember, what if he's too pissed off to care it's only Jin's second time.

But he says nothing.

And Kame's steady. Slick and steady. Jin almost manages the breathing, and maybe Kame is right about control. His body is pulsing again and it's strange and almost no pain and he knows he can do this, from last time, he knows it'll ease out.

Kame makes a low, airless sound when he stills at the end. "I should have fucked you years ago," he says. "Maybe kept you in line." His hands on Jin's hips are hard like he wants to do it now. "Would have spared you a whole lot of trouble."

"Would have spared you five years without," Jin says, and his fingers clench on the sheet when Kame pulls back in response, comes back rough.

"God, you've never known when to shut your mouth." Kame's fingers dig into him, like he'll leave his prints here too. "I should have fucked you and shut you up."

It works now, with more, fast out and back. Shuts him up, shuts everything up. Jin's just here, the stretch inside him and the raw scrape of Kame's words. Kame behind him, the rhythm.

"You should have come begging to me."

Jin doesn't have to do a thing but follow the pace. It's steady, hard.

"Best ass I ever had. Gorgeous. You're selling yourself cheap."

Kame's there, he's found his balance. End of a long day. Of a long five, twenty-five years. Whatever. Jin spreads out his hands, his face in the sheets. Not a thing.

"So hot… You'll feel me tomorrow, whenever you move. But you'll take it anyway, you're just begging for it…"

Fast, so fast, and then Kame grabs him and pulls him back, up, against his chest and Jin goes with it, lets himself be held there, hand on his throat and cock in his ass, and Kame's breath getting ragged, there's swearing and speed and Jin turned inside out and caught, so high.

"…so _take_ it," Kame gasps, and then it ends.

Small, slowing jerks. Kame's nails, Kame making a fist on his belly. They sound wet together when they move. A huff of breath. Could be a laugh. Does Kame laugh? Kame's face is so close, right by his ear.

"You," Kame breathes, "make a damn fine fuck."

Jin keeps his eyes closed.

Kame's arm goes around him, tight. Unexpected. Jin's about ready to fall forward and collapse.

"Should I get you off now?" Kame slides his hand down, right there, and Jin's crashing blood goes where he leads. "What do you think?"

He can't breathe. He's not hard, not yet, not anymore. But he can be. Kame's touching him.

"Yeah," he says, his voice hoarse. Kame's still inside him, shrinking. "I think yeah."

And his dick thinks so too, he knows without opening his eyes. The tingle, tightness where Kame holds him, and then Kame moves his hand and—

Jin whimpers. Everything's been dry so long, dry and lonely. Kame strokes him easy, long leisurely strokes and it's like water in spring, everything opening up, growing and filling and he can't breathe, it's too much, it's...

"Give it up," Kame whispers in his ear, "give it up you little slut, you know you want to."

He wants, and he bucks into Kame's hand, and there's that soft laugh again and he doesn't give a fuck. What's a moan, if Kame can fuck him and pay him and hold him, and he's _right there_ and Jin can thrust up for what he needs because Kame just gives it to him, and he's held and he's warm and he doesn't care.

"Left," he says and Kame knows, Kame calls him a slut and a whore but he does it just the same. Does him like Jin's just another thing he's good at, tight perfect strokes and damp slaps against his ass and Jin soars, and thrusts and thrusts all the way and makes a high naked noise, coming and shaking.

God, please, just like this. Kame wants him just like this and Jin still doesn't care. Rush after rush and then it ebbs, fades.

He can hear Kame breathe, pleased with himself. Jin is sticky, cooling down, winded. His ass in Kame's lap.

"Next time I should put you on your back," Kame says thickly into his ear. "Watch your face. Quite a show, I should think."

Yeah. He's a slut and a whore, he knows. Jin doesn't argue the point, it's a dumb point, because Kame doesn't know everything, Kame would never let Jin hold him and that means he's dumb too.

"Now get off me," Kame says, as if to prove Jin right. "You're a mess."

"Yeah, whose mess?" Jin mumbles, but lets himself topple forward again, flat on his stomach on cooled sheets. He hears a low snort, Kame breathing. Kame's hand is on his ass, warm over sweat and lube. A pat.

"Looks good on you too."

Then he's gone... sitting back, up. The air's cooler where he was. He grabs Jin's beer, which is closest. Sits down at the top of the futon and has a swig.

Jin feels the mess when he turns on his side. Kame looks him up and down, at the come on his chest that's not rubbed on the sheets now. "Well, look while you can," Jin says. His voice is rough, unpracticed. Kame's been doing all the talking. But he stretches up, too, enough to reach Kame's beer. Oh yes, wet mess, warm and slippery, but the sheets have had it anyway, so whatever.

Kame shrugs. "You'll still be here next week, won't you." He leans against the shelf, and he's only ever looked at Jin this long to scare him.

Jin drinks, settles down again. "Next week. I see."

Kame shrugs again. "If I find half an hour."

More than half an hour. They've spent their half hour fucking and haven't even gotten round to the postcoital fighting. He wonders how it worked for Kame before, if it was always snatches of time here and there, if they fought as much.

"So who was that last guy? The five years ago guy."

"None of your business."

"He's in the biz?"

Kame tenses like here they go, one question too many and the fighting can start. But then he shrugs. "He played for the Giants."

"Why'd he dump you?" Jin's not sure what happened to his sense for self-preservation, and he doesn't care.

Kame glares at him. Jin looks harmlessly interested.

"He thought I was 'too intense'." The quotation marks are plain like nails on chalkboard.

"A baseball player thought you were too intense?" Jin says before he can help himself. Right-oh.

"Apparently," Kame says. "Didn't matter. I've got no time for wimps anyway."

Jin watches him drink; stare off into walls like they're his enemies. Wonders what Kame's apartment is like these days, and thinks it must feel pretty empty.

"Can't be good for you," he says. He doesn't know why, maybe he's feeling brave. Maybe he's stupid. "Your type of 'discreet'."

"It's not your fucking business what's good for me," Kame snaps. "And what do you know about it?"

"Not much," Jin shrugs. Only that Kame's out here fucking some loser has-been because he has scared off the crazy overachievers who wield bats for a living. "So tell me about it."

"You're out of your mind," Kame says, but Jin's not missing the fact that he's still sitting there with his beer and that he told Jin about the baseball player.

"Tell me why you're blackmailing Jun about getting it on with guys."

"Because it's the most effective weapon I have for him," Kame says coldly. "I'd have gone to Ohno with how he runs around on his wife but he's in Kansai for the week."

"What the _fuck_ , Kame. You can't just…"

Kame bangs his head back against the desk. He looks about ready to murder him. "Look. I don't give a shit about fucking Arashi. I don't care where Jun puts his dick. I just want her to lay the fuck off my band."

The long game. Jin should have figured.

"I didn't start this bullshit," Kame says hotly. "I was just a fucking idol, I was good at it, I _liked_ it. But she's been trying to steal the company out from under Johnny for years and she's willing to throw everyone but her precious boys under the bus to get there. And when I try to keep our people from making her job easier they go and call _me_ the mean, unfeeling bastard. Jun can fuck whoever he wants, he can fuck all of JAL for all I care, but she's _not_ getting Koki and she's not getting KAT-TUN, not while I have anything to do with it. And I don't care what anybody calls me."

His glare's asking if Jin wants to get in line for the character assessment.

"How long's this been going on?"

"For fucking ever." Then Kame takes a deep breath. "A while. But it's getting... things are moving right now." He stares into space like the shifting pieces are right there. "She's escalating."

Of course, he's leaving out the part where he's stalking SMAP and setting up all kinds of other moves; good that Jin's been paying attention.

He has another sip of beer. It goes down with a cool tingle. Half an hour of fucking your brains out, and Kame's looking tight and wired anyway. Mean, unfeeling bastard.

He gets up, ignores the snap stare. Kame's jacket is hung up tidily, and sure, right in the pocket...

He sits down in exactly the same spot and chucks the cigarette pack at Kame. The lighter too. "One," he says. "And don't get used to it."

Kame blinks up at him with a puzzled frown, then down, at the pack in his lap. It's a moment before he picks it up. He doesn't look at Jin again when he shakes a cigarette out, takes the lighter, lights up with automatic grace. One slow, careful inhalation, and he holds it, and holds; finally blows it away from Jin, and is still looking in the opposite direction when he says, "Thank you."

Jin feels almost like he took one himself, the way the stress level sinks around and inside him. Could almost be tempting.

As if he's doing more of the mind reading, Kame looks from the cigarette to Jin. "Do you miss it sometimes?" he asks.

Huh. He's got a vivid memory of the first half year of missing it. But now... "Not really. I haven't cared enough to miss it," he finds. He hasn't cared about his life enough.

Strange thing to realize. Jin lets himself sink down, stretches out on his side as he ponders that thought over his beer.

He gives Kame time, too, a few more drags. He can watch the tension slip out of Kame's limbs. He empties his bottle and holds it out to Kame when the ash needs tapping.

Kame's fingers close around his.

Somehow he disengages the bottle, somehow he taps off the cigarette, backdrop to a bright burn.

Jin is perfectly still.

Kame's fingertips on his knuckles, his wrist, where the skin is soft, a curl that reaches deep inside him. Kame looking like he can't reach deep enough.

Mean, unfeeling bastard.

And Jin remembers who else called him that, too, in more polite words. His stomach knots with conflicting loyalties. He never said, but he never thought Kame deserved to know, it made no difference.

Loyalties?

"You know, I talked to Nakamaru," he says, just jumping in, Akanishi style.

Instant wariness. Kame lets him go. "Really."

"Yeah." The silence stretches, smoke filling Jin's nose and making him twitchy. Everything making him twitchy.

"What," Kame says, "did he tell you?"

Nothing Jin was supposed to say. But this... "Julie made him leave."

Kame's face clouds over so fast any sane person would dive for cover. " _Made_ him? What the fuck, did she pay him off?"

"She blackmailed him." The irony only now swings in fully. God dammit. "He had… well, he had a girl, and the girl had some bad habits, and there were some drugs and apparently Julie knew about it. She got him to leave and blame you. I..."

Kame looks somewhere between crazed and alert.

"I thought you should know." Jin feels a little stupid by now. "That he didn't really hate you."

Yeah, prime Akanishi priorities.

Kame's eyes are frozen on him for a moment, and then there's a smirk, a bad one. "Well, thanks. I can stop lying awake wondering."

Jin's not dumb, and he says nothing, lets it ride.

"A girl?" Kame finally says.

"Apparently he was madly in love with her," Jin says. "She left him when he wasn't an idol anymore."

Kame laughs. Looks at Jin, laughs in a soundless sad way. Drags on his cigarette. "Men and their dicks," he says.

Yeah. Kame, and _his_ dick, in Jin's little apartment.

"Kimura thinks I'm a cold son of a bitch," Kame says. "For what happened with KAT-TUN. Nakamaru." His thumb rubs the label on the bottle, over and over. "Even with you." Two more drags, and the cigarette is done.

"You had nothing to do with that."

"I know." Kame pushes the cigarette end into the bottle and starts picking at the label. "That was all lovingly handcrafted by Akanishi Jin." His shoulders draw up. "Doesn't matter. People don't know. They see me now... They don't know it took me years before I could do anything."

"So you _are_ talking to Kimura." He can't let that get away. Finally Kame's talking.

"Yeah. Of course. They walked away for him." Kame is shaking his head, staring at the bottle as if he's worried the cigarette didn't fizz out. "Men and their dicks..."

Jin wonders if he'll wake up tomorrow and regret telling Jin all this. He looks like his mind's in a dozen different places, all sordid and scheming and none of them about here, naked on Jin's bed. There's a plan here with SMAP, and Jin should prod, when for once Kame's in a confession mood. But Kame also looks tense and focused enough for ten people, at nearly two in the morning, and it feels wrong.

Jin pulls his legs in. "You want more beer?"

"No," Kame says, his face closing up. Probably thinking about how someone might use that, drunk driving hanging over his head. _Discreet_.

Holding himself like a spring wound too tight.

"You want something else?" Jin says.

Kame's eyes skip to him, hesitation and flickering heat. But he shakes his head. Even that is tight. "No. I'm fine."

"You're twitchy."

Thunderclouds, as if Jin's a bad boy for even noticing.

"I'm still slick," he says.

And Kame's hard, pretty much instantly. His glare turns stormy.

"What?" Jin rolls slowly on his belly. Spreads his legs just for a tease, just enough Kame can see from up there. "I'm right here." And what more does a guy—

Kame moves, lightning fast, a tempest behind Jin, the sound of Kame spitting in his hand and then a grip at his hips, and he's pulled back onto Kame's cock like it's the only place he belongs. For a moment his breath stops but then it's okay, then it's fine.

"You _are_ a slut," Kame murmurs in his ear. His thrusts are long, hard, sharp.

_Whore._

"This one's on the house," Jin says, and that's enough said. Kame's sounds are breathless. Shameless. He fucks Jin to some groove he finds, a deep determined pace that doesn't let up, just shifts in the margins, Jin moved around Kame's cock until there's nothing in his head, nowhere else to be and nothing to hold back.

In the end Kame grips him and goes frantic, holds him hard enough to bruise. He comes with a sigh and Jin feels his heat, blazing over him, at his hips, inside him.

Jin stays. Listens to the shudders in Kame's breathing. Kame will know what next.

He feels it more when Kame slips out this time. "That was good," Kame says, and crawl-slumps up to crash against the shelf. He's soaked in sweat.

Jin flops down flat, props himself up just enough under his chest, and feels a little I-told-you-so. Not the worst feeling, that. "Sometimes I know what you need."

Kame raises his eyebrows. It looks like a lot of work. But he doesn't argue. Good man.

Jin breathes down, deep down, and lets his head rest for a moment. It's weird to get used to getting fucked.

Kame reaches out, trails his fingers through Jin's hair. Thoughtfully, almost as if by accident, but when Jin smiles, the fingers start to wander… his cheek and his chin, his mouth. Kame's fingers are salty and warm.

Jin lets him touch; lets him look. It's not like before.

"You know what we don't do anymore?" Kame says.

Uh. "Bring each other flowers?"

Kame laughs. Almost openly. "You don't sing for me."

"It's half past two in the morning."

"All that fucking, no singing," Kame says, his eyes roaming over Jin in that way that could be a comment, if he could be bothered.

Jin almost reaches out for him, just for a pat or a prod. There's a glow there. "You don't look like that's a bad deal."

Kame smiles, a smile that acknowledges Jin's point but has a 'but' attached. "Can you sing something?"

What? "It is half past _two_ in the _morning_ ," Jin says. "I have neighbors."

Kame shrugs. "Make it something quiet."

He's actually serious. The things Jin will do for a fucked-out jerkish dude who's messing up his sheets.

He moves slowly, getting his guitar. Wants to ask, but Kame's face passes any question right back, Kame's just waiting.

Jin sits back down on the futon too. He's not going to be ambitious here. After thinking quickly and discarding a few options he settles on Murasaki, just slow. Murasaki for fucked-out dudes.

Two bars in he realizes that trying to sing that song slow is like trying to teach a cat to play soccer, and he goes freestyle, forgets about rhythm altogether, a dazed drunken, slowly meandering version of the song. Kame's not complaining though, and when Jin looks up to check...

Kame is asleep.

Wow. That's...

Jin keeps playing, lets the song teeter right to the end, but he can't take his eyes off Kame. Strands of sweaty hair still curling around his face, but his arms tucked in and his legs folded tidily. His lips are parted just a little.

Decades ago, Jin would have drawn whiskers on him or stuck a spoon in his mouth. Now he wonders if he has a blanket and how to get it over him without waking him up.

Though maybe he should. He doesn't even know when Kame needs to be at work.

Not at half past two in the morning, he decides. He tiptoes across the tatami to put his guitar away, get himself sweatpants. He takes a piss sitting down and doesn't flush, and when he comes out the sex smell in the room hits him, heavy and foreign.

Kame is out like a light. The lines around his eyes look deeper when he's not moving or being commanding. He's got shadow on his jaw Jin didn't notice before.

Jin's tired, too, but… not like this, this is different. And if he sleeps, Kame might sleep in, might lose this... whatever. So hey, night shift. Jin has experience.

He folds Kame's clothes, finds the phone in one of his pockets. The screen is password protected but Jin puts it on the table in case of urgent ringing. Then he switches on his tab and turns off everything that could buzz or beep.

Kame sleeps. The air's warm enough that Jin keeps postponing attempts with a blanket. Kame's nipples are darker these days. He has a small scar on his belly, appendix maybe. The hair that's not stuck to him sometimes shifts when he breathes. Jin realizes he's finding a sleeping guy more interesting than the world news, tries to care about that and doesn't succeed.

It's half past three when Kame startles up, the sudden noise giving Jin a fright. "What?" He stares at Jin fuzzily, but the focus comes back with every blink. Kame, master of rolling out of bed and aiming a precision rifle.

"Relax," Jin says in a neighbor-appropriate voice. "It's not morning yet."

Kame's head makes a thump when he drops it back against the wood. "Shit. How long was I gone?"

"Less than a full hour."

"An _hour_." Kame's face is a study in quiet horror. He runs his hands over his eyes, hard as if that'll make him wake up more quickly.

"It's no big deal," Jin says. "It's the middle of the night, it's normal to sleep."

Kame shakes his head, opens his mouth, shakes his head again. "But I wasn't ready yet, it's... I can't just sleep," he says reasonably.

"Why?"

"Because..." He bites his lip, and his eyes get stuck on Jin's ear or thereabouts. "When I sleep... I'm not awake."

"I see," Jin says. The worrying thing is that he thinks he does, and feels like the countdown for Kame's mental collapse has just started to speed up. "But they've got to sleep too."

" _Yes_ ," Kame says, much more awake now. He rises, and for a moment it's hard not to think of a wobbly baby animal, but then Kame's got it sorted and shows him a glimpse of evil overlord even while stark naked and reeking of sex. "And that's my opportunity."

Jin's not going to question it. "It was just an hour too. And nothing came in on your phone."

Kame glances from him to the little stack of clothing with the phone on top. "Good," he says. "I should get going now. I have to get home, shower. And get back."

Jin bites back what's on the tip of his tongue. Kame's right.

He gets dressed with remarkable coordination. Jin's starting to feel like he'd poke his eyes out if he tried anything complicated like underpants.

Kame pockets his phone after a last check.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"Yeah," Kame says, wiping over his face again, rough over stubble. "I slept now." He breathes deeply and picks his jacket up from the chair, takes the cigarettes and slides them in a pocket. And he's ready to go.

"Your... I owe you money," he says at the door.

Yeah. That. "Sure," Jin says. "You know the fee."

He counts it out, hands it over, and Jin sticks it in the pocket of his sweatpants. When he looks up again, Kame is looking past him at the bed and all the rest of it, and suddenly he fishes out four more notes. "Here. That's... I'd have paid that at a hotel. For sleeping."

Jin swallows. It's probably true, you'd pay that sort of money at the kind of hotel Kame would go to. Bathtubs the size of Jin's apartment.

"Sure," he says again, and takes it.

Kame still stands, as though finding it difficult to remember what the next step it. Or maybe, Jin lets himself think, as though he doesn't want to take it.

"Next week," he finally says.

Jin nods. "You'll find half an hour."

"Fuck off," Kame says.

Then he's gone, in the dark. Jin locks the door behind him, turns back to his apartment.

He should brush his teeth. That's important. He always tells his kids.

So he does that, and then he falls on his futon on the side where the sheets are less gross and turns off the last light, and his head is full of Kame and then nothing.

~

_to be continued_


	10. Week 7½

## Week 7½

### Saturday

Sara loves the duck.

Jin's rarely seen her so awestruck as when the giant violet-orange and spun sugar construction floats in on a cooling pad, and she wants to take a million photos of it and then never eat it and then make all her friends taste it. She's quiet as a mouse when she has her first bite.

"That was a success," Meisa grins at him when they're hiding out in the kitchen again to catch a breath, the pandemonium of children safely supervised by two grandmothers and Reio with his wife. Meisa told Sara to be nice to little cousin Haruki, even though he's only four and she barely knows him. Kids' birthdays are generally the only times they see each other.

Reio works a lot. He never got his big break, never had the chances Jin had, and when he got married he took a job that could support a family. Office, suit and tie, eight till late and drinks with the boss. He doesn't say much anymore about the fact that Jin barely works at all now, but Jin knows what he thinks about Jin's history and Jin's attitude; has it replaying in his head with a growing background chorus whenever he hits yet another bump, loses another job.

So Jin's glad to be out of the line of fire, and even Haruki liked the duck, particularly the feet, and Meisa understands enough to let him stay in the background for a bit.

It's never for long anyway; he enjoys playing with the kids too much.

Right enough, half an hour later he's crawling about on the carpet, being the camelephant monster from which they have to protect themselves and each other. He's tame while anyone rides him, but vicious when he can throw his rider off and tickle her.

He's got Yumi on his back and the others squealing around him when his phone rings, and with all the noise, it takes the first three rings until he hears it's Kame.

_Already?_ he thinks and then that he won't be home in an hour, no way, and then he's blushing and trying to get his camelephant back. He bucks Yumi off carefully and roars, and then he fumbles for his phone. "Just a moment, okay?" he says.

But it's stopped ringing.

Damn.

"ME AGAIN!" Sara shouts, but Jin's lost his groove. He lets himself fall flat on his belly.

"The camelephant is sleeping," he says. "Camelephants need sleep or their trunks shrink."

Sara giggles, and explains to her friends that her dad likes to sleep. "When I was little, I once put his hat and his sunglasses on him while he was asleep and he didn't even notice," she says.

When she was _five_. She must feel so mature.

Jin makes a snoring camelephant noise, trying to shake the tension. When this conclusion to the camelephant adventure is accepted, he gently rolls up and excuses himself, finds Meisa.

"I need to make a call," he tells her. "Do you mind if I go into the bedroom?"

"No, of course not," she smiles, "go recover," and he pulls back from the noise and the kids, closes the sliding door behind him.

It's still their old bed. They made Sara in that bed, one of those drowsy afternoons they loved, when Akira was napping and her skin was soft under his fingers, and having free time wasn't a curse yet. Her nightstand's still full of the same things, hand cream and earrings and hair clips, and he looks away. He presses the return call button. To call Kame. Who may or may not answer and may be asking for whatever.

"Hello," Kame says on the second ring. "Where are you?"

"I'm at my daughter's birthday party," Jin says. No way is he going to be apologetic. "We're celebrating today."

"I need to talk to you about the girl," Kame says without even a pause. "Are you alone? Can you get alone?"

Girl? What? Kame calls him about sex. "What girl?"

"The girl you mentioned. Nakamaru's crack dealer girlfriend."

Right. Jin takes a breath and shifts tracks. "I'm alone," he says. "What's going on?"

"Did he tell you her name? One of her names? Or anything about her, where she lived or came from, what she did for a living? Did he still have a photo, do you know what she looked like?"

"No, no, no, no and no," Jin says. "He only said she was great, and she got him to do coke, and then she dumped him. She's an ex who screwed him, he didn't show me the photo album."

There's a pause. Jin squirms because it's not actually his fault he can't give Kame better answers. But what's Kame doing worrying about Nakamaru's ex anyway?

"They did the drugs together?"

"Yeah," Jin says, and it rings a vague bell. Not 'great'. "He said she was exciting." It... somehow felt more meaningful a second ago before he heard it out loud. Now it's just banal.

"Have you ever known Nakamaru to go for excitement?" Kame asks, and Jin snorts, because the irony...

But Kame's not kidding.

"Look, he was in love with her," Jin says. "You said it yourself. Men and their dicks." Then he glances over his shoulder. Thin doors and grandmothers abound. "What's going on, Kame?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out." Kame sounds impatient; in another man Jin might have called it frazzled. "I'm trying to find out if she could be—" He cuts himself short, takes a slow breath, and when he speaks again he sounds like a boiling pot with a very good lid. "I'm wondering if somebody else knows her. A photo would really help. And I'd like to find her, to ask her a couple of questions."

"I don't know anything," Jin says. Is Kame trying... "Are you going after Nakamaru? Is this about the drugs?" He feels cold suddenly, like staring at Koki and imagining tortured cats...

"What? No! For fuck's sake."

Jin breathes.

It's quiet. So quiet Kame can maybe even hear the ruckus in the background, Jin's kids.

"What is this, Kame?"

"I think," Kame says slowly, "that she may have screwed someone else. But I'm not sure. What you know isn't enough."

"I saw him to catch up with him, not to interrogate him about girls I didn't even know existed." He feels a guilty twinge when he remembers he actually saw Nakamaru to interrogate him about _Kame_.

"Can you ask him now? For a name, or better a photo? He won't tell _me_ anything."

"I'm not a fucking investigator for you," Jin says, managing to keep his voice down. "Not with Nakamaru."

More quiet.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you with your family," Kame says at the end of it. "I hope you enjoy the rest of the party. I'll call you about our usual arrangement."

And he's gone.

Enjoy, right. Jin stares at the phone and is tempted to turn it off, but he's got a shift in a couple of hours and he wants people to be able to get hold of him. If Kame calls again, he'll just ignore him.

As if Kame would.

He stuffs the phone in his pocket and determinedly forgets about calls, and fucking, and Nakamaru, _enjoys_ a hot dog and some fries, _enjoys_ being scolded by his daughter and her friends for giving a spider six legs instead of eight in Pictionary, and enjoys quashing thoughts of Kame whenever they enter his brain.

"Sorry to be leaving you to the mess," he says to Meisa when it's time to leave for his box, but she smiles and shakes her head.

"You were great with them, I didn't have to do a thing until now." She flings a towel over her shoulder like a salute and grins at him. "I consider it my fair share." She looks so happy that for the first time Jin wonders if she's seeing somebody.

What the fuck? He quashes that thought too. It's dumb and not his business.

His taxi is on time. Two of his colleagues rib him a bit for arriving in style, but they smile when he gives them a short version of the birthday party.

His duck rocked the house.

Then he's changed and in his box. It's a shame he had to leave early, but he's looking forward to going through all the pictures he took today. He did well; gave his daughter a present she loved and was there for most of the party and now he's earning money. Everything good.

Mostly everything.

He's been in the box for an hour and a half when he thinks he's got his story straight. His palms still get sweaty while the phone rings and rings.

"Hello, Nakamaru Yuuichi here." It sounds so prim, Jin thinks it's a voicemail recording. "Hello?"

"Um, hi," he says. "It's Akanishi." Okay, okay, get it together. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you?"

Blah blah blah, fine, good, work, family stuff. Jin feels guilty when he mentions the birthday party.

Maru mentions the weather, his own work, a miraculous conditioner with nano-whatnots, and the weather again, and then there's a pause.

"Uh, you must be wondering why I'm calling," Jin says. "The thing is, I have this friend."

Nakamaru chuckles. "And he has this girl he likes, and he needs some advice, and the friend is really not you."

"Dumbass," Jin says, but somehow this helps, even though it makes him feel worse. "He's got a club, right, and he was looking to hire waitresses and this girl applied and he heard her saying to the other girls that she's your ex. Thought she was bragging."

The silence on the line is full of wariness. Jin can't even blame the guy.

"So," he says, "I thought, if she's _that_ ex, he probably doesn't want her working for him because who knows what she's involved in."

"True," Nakamaru agrees carefully.

"So is there a way to recognize her? Or do you still have a photo somewhere, that I could show him?"

Nakamaru takes a moment to answer. "What club is that?" But it doesn't sound suspicious, it sounds... forlorn.

"Man, don't do that to yourself," Jin says, feeling like a pig. "I just want to check it's her. You shouldn't even think about it." And then he hopes Nakamaru buys it.

"I don't have a lot of photos," Nakamaru says quietly. "Never did. We didn't really do that."

It gives Jin a jolt. No photos, no trace. _Exciting_.

"Just, it would be good to make sure..." Not a _lot_ of photos, Nakamaru said.

"I'll see what I can do," Nakamaru says. "No promises."

Jin wants a shower after he's hung up. Well, it's hot, too. The hours crawl on. He takes his gloves off and fans himself when he's sure nothing is approaching.

Then, shortly after eleven, his email buzzes. Nakamaru's sent him an attachment of two photos. _Hope it helps_ , nothing else. They're photobooth pictures, a little blurry, and distorted with big eyes and sparkling hearts. Under the effects, she's probably pretty.

He forwards them to Kame with his own cover note. _Stop getting me to do your dirty work for you._

 

### Sunday

It rains all day Sunday. Jin woke up at noon and thought it might be five in the morning, and now it's three, and he's still looking out into humid gloom. Whenever he thinks the rainy season is over, it tucks on a few extra days. He's not seeing the kids today. After yesterday's excitement they are catching up on homework, and the grannies are getting some undisturbed time with them. He's only got a couple more hours before box-time, anyway.

So he makes himself a big pot of tea and gets the guitar out. That's almost cosy and he could write a song about that, he thinks, not a love song, just a song about being content and letting the world go by outside.

Then he laughs. Maybe he's getting old.

He maps out a melody anyway, and fills it with chords, and here and there he has words, and there's a 'you' in there after all but a comfortable one, no raging passion with that damp drizzle going on outside.

Kame's ringtone is in a totally different key, and Jin's first word is _fuck_ because that hurts his brain.

He quickly mutes the strings, then hunts around for his phone. Jacket pocket. "Yes," he says, "what now?"

"I need you to come with me to a meeting," Kame says. "I'll pick you up in an hour."

"A _meeting_?" Jin wonders briefly if Kame's breakdown has started. "What sort of meeting?"

"I need you come to the _Only One_ office with me to tell Kimura what you know about Nakamaru's girl."

"What?" He hates when he's feeling slow, but... he's feeling pretty slow. "I already told you what I know. I sent you the picture!"

"I know. I need you to tell him anyway. He wouldn't believe me."

_Kimura thinks I'm a cold son of a bitch._ And Kame thinks going around with an unemployed ex-idol who pays his rent in creative ways is going to improve his credibility?

Amazingly, he manages not to say that out loud. "He doesn't have to like you, you have evidence."

"He'll think I have a hidden motive."

"You _have_ a hidden motive."

"No, not hidden," Kame says, and Jin shivers, just a bit. "I'd take Nakamaru but I don't think he'll go the distance. You're the next best thing."

Well, wow. There's an endorsement. Jin's stock is on the rise.

"I'll pick you up in an hour," Kame says again. "Try the clean shirt, please."

"Wait!"

Kame actually stops, actually waits.

"I have work," Jin says. "I can't go anywhere in an hour, I need to get ready for my shift."

Kame waits longer.

"Sorry," Jin says.

"Can you cancel?" Kame asks next, calm as anything. "I'll pay you for the shift."

It stings. Jin doesn't know why, of course Kame would think that, it's twelve hours in a box, Kame pays that much for breakfast. "No, I can't. I have a responsibility."

"You're waving at truck drivers! I'm sure they can live without you for a night!"

"Listen, you asshole," Jin says, and he should probably hang up, just hang the fuck up. "That's my goddamn _job_ and I'm not cancelling, and last time I checked you were the one having _needs_ here."

At the other end, Kame is breathing. Jin wonders vaguely if Kame's ever tried meditation, for his stress levels. "All right, I'm sorry," Kame says eventually. "You should go to your job. Do you have time tomorrow? I'd really appreciate it."

"Yeah, whatever," Jin says. "I can do tomorrow."

"I'll be there at ten."

Jin wants to throw his head back and laugh.

 

### Monday

It's the same muggy grey all around when Jin sinks into the leather seat of Kame's car, humidity sticking along his back. Each blink scrapes over his eyes, none of the sensations fitting together.

"Good morning," Kame says.

Jin shivers once when the aircon hits him. "Morning. Did you bring coffee?"

Kame looks him over, crisp like fresh paper. Jin's the free daily someone dropped on the floor of a subway car.

Jin hasn't slept enough.

"You didn't have any?" Kame asks, and what, and oh, right. Coffee.

"I got back from work three hours ago." Words are troublesome in his mouth. "You could have brought coffee." Really, Kame could be more appreciative. Jin's even changed into that clean shirt.

Kame pulls out of the spot in front of Jin's building, his hands sure on the steering wheel. It's quiet in here. Quiet and shut up.

"He knows we're coming, right?" Jin checks.

"He knows I'm coming," Kame says. "You're the early morning special."

People's little treat. Sundays, early mornings, whatever your craving.

He starts tapping his foot. Too quiet. Outside there's rain, and Jin can't hear a thing, like his senses are off. He's dreading this whole business a little, and isn't even sure why. He did nothing wrong.

"I'm sorry for what I said about your work yesterday," Kame says. He doesn't look at Jin, and that's okay, because Jin is fine sneaking glances at the tight set of Kame's mouth, his immaculate suit. "It is a responsibility, of course. I shouldn't have said that."

Jin sticks his hands in his pockets, because his fingers are cold from the night. "Are you apologizing because you're sorry or because you're worried I'll blow it with Kimura?"

"Well," Kame says, eyes ahead. But there's a nervous blink. Jin thinks of Koki, and cats, and almost smiles. "I don't want you to blow it with Kimura. But I do understand about responsibility."

Yeah, Jin can't pretend he doesn't know that. "So do you want to tell me more about what you want out of me, or is the point that I shouldn't know?"

Now there's a twitch of the mouth. "Just be yourself. Be natural. Tell it to him like it is."

Be natural. Himself. Right. That's always good for a disaster or two.

The shop front has changed from a couple of weeks ago – now it's Kimura in one of the slick camera advertisements he's been doing for decades now, and Kusanagi with the new drama Jin heard about on TV when he was tracking Koki's sizzling cat. He plays a widower who finds new love and raises horses somewhere.

Kame ignores the store altogether, presses a bell by the door beside it, and after some interrogation they get buzzed in.

The hallway's very bland. The door where Kame stops is, too, until he rings _again_ and a girl in jeans and blazer opens, and behind her lies a wide studio. She and Kame bow at each other, clearly acquainted.

Jin tries to look harmless and ignore her hidden staring. He recognizes that; she thinks she knows him from somewhere, but can't remember. Great.

Kimura-senpai is waiting for them in one of three triangular armchairs, ostensibly reading a newspaper. Jeans, white shirt, cardigan. When he stands up, a tension goes through Kame, and snaps all the way through Jin.

"Good morning," he says. He gives Jin a curious glance, but even that seems measured, exactly as much surprise as they're supposed to see.

He must be around fifty. He's got a few strategic lines of grey, and Jin can't remember finding him this attractive, or this intimidating. Maybe he just got grander with age. Maybe Jin got smaller.

He bows, and mentally thanks Kame for insisting on the shirt.

"This is a little unexpected," Kimura says. "Yui-chan, can we get some coffee, please?"

Five minutes ago, Jin would have been supremely grateful. Now he's quite awake.

"Thank you very much," Kame says, sketching another bow. There's a tense moment where nobody moves, until Kimura raises a soft hand and invites them to sit.

Jin hates this armchair. It's worse than wicker, the kind that either makes you look nervous as you perch on the edge or swallows you up.

Somehow, Kame sits quite straight. Attentive, but not like he's fourteen and spilled something in the changing room. "I brought you something you should see," he says, producing a small envelope from some inside pocket.

Kimura ignores it. "Akanishi-kun, how are you? I didn't know the two of you were talking."

"Well, we..." Jin gives Kame a quick look but then stops that, because it doesn't make him any less unsettled. "I'm fine."

They reassure each other that their families are fine, too, that's normal, just standard. The walls are full of artistic versions of SMAP covers, except the side that says ONLY ONE in a red and white mosaic of face pictures. The girl brings them coffee.

When she's gone, Kimura focuses on Kame. "I'm listening, then."

Kame doesn't look at Jin more than out of the corner of his eyes, but Jin feels his attention anyway. "About five years ago, KAT-TUN's Nakamaru Yuuichi got himself into some trouble. Jin's here because he spoke to Nakamaru-san. He'll tell you what he said."

It's quiet. Okay, cue. Jin's palms are sweating. "Right. Um. Nakamaru had a girlfriend. She was kind of intense. They did some stuff together that wasn't entirely legal and then— someone found out. They blackmailed him and made him quit KAT-TUN."

Kimura gives Kame a sharp, uncomfortable look, and something in Jin spreads, hot and urgent, straight past his nervousness and out around Kame. It's an old, old feeling.

"And he was told to blame Kame," Jin finishes. "That's why he said what he said."

Kimura doesn't blink. But he reaches for his coffee, as the first among them, and Jin can't read the next look that Kame gets.

Kame opens the envelope and slides the picture across the small table, face-down, movie-style. "Jin asked Nakamaru for a photo. This was the woman."

Kimura puts his coffee down, flips the picture over. He stares for a moment, and Jin remembers the photobooth effects, and then Kimura's face turns to stone.

"You recognize her," Kame says. It's not a question.

Kimura is thinking hard about his answer. Jin can tell as much, even if he has no idea what's going on.

"Yes," Kimura says eventually. "I recognize her."

Jin can see the slow slump in Kame's shoulders from here.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"He doesn't know?" Kimura. Still stony. He's dropped the picture on the table. Face-down.

Kame shakes his head curtly. "I don't share your business around."

And Jin thinks, _liar_ , because Kame doesn't tell anybody anything, and Jin was nobody but a guy in a small room for weeks. But he doesn't mind, feels strangely happy that he knows Kame is lying when Kimura doesn't.

Kimura turns to Jin. Courtesy, that's what his face shows there. "A few years ago, I met a young woman and had an affair. Julie Fujishima thought this gave her power over the group, but my band mates and I found ourselves in agreement that we were too old for her games." They told Julie to shove it, is what he means.

"That's why you left the company."

Kimura nods. "I confessed my mistake to my wife and she was kind enough to forgive me. It greatly diminished the blackmail value of Julie's information. And we left. We wanted nothing to do with those sorts of company politics."

His eyes graze Kame again, and this time the bubbling feeling in Jin is just a shallow reflex.

"It wasn't just you," Kame says. "I didn't realize there was a connection before, but whoever that woman is, she was hired by Julie, I'm sure of it. I'm looking for her now. And I'll find her, with your help."

Kimura weighs that slowly, but then he ignores Kame. "Why are you helping him?" he asks Jin instead.

"I'm just telling the truth," Jin shrugs. "As much of it as I know, anyway."

"He didn't help you."

"How was he supposed to help me?" Jin shrugs again, but sweatily. This is the part he can blow. "We weren't even... we didn't talk. I managed that all on my own."

"I know you weren't selling. But that's never stopped the company from holding on to someone."

True, that. There's a home for the middling and the meek, and Jin never quite believed they'd really kick him out, until the day he got the call. First from the company, then Warner.

"The boss didn't want to know me after I got married," he says. "And then I didn't bring in the cash to make up for it." Simple story, business. And still his nerve is failing and he's feeling hot and embarrassed. "I didn't sell, and I lost the fans."

Giving them not an inch more than he was willing to give. Uncompromising. Back then he thought that was a good word.

Kimura walked away too, but he's been making music all this time and owns a loft and god knows what. Jin shifts on his man-eating armchair, hunched and small. He came to tell the truth, but he didn't think it would be this truth, all over again.

Kimura gives Kame an unreadable look. "You think it was that simple?"

Jin's own goddamn truth.

Oh. And Kimura-senpai meant him. "How would I know," he says helplessly. "Maybe they had fifteen meetings about it. But I'm pretty sure Kame wasn't in them." What does Kimura _want_ , Kame's itinerary from nine years ago? It would probably say _busy_ , right next to Jin's which said _blank_.

Kimura goes silent, a tiny nod there. Yeah, good. Maybe he gets it, maybe he remembers just how much _say_ you got out of being in a Johnny's band.

"Thank you for bringing this," Kimura gestures towards the photo, "to our attention, Akanishi-kun."

"No problem." Right. Wait, what. Who's we now?

Kimura leans forward, elbows on his knees, giving Kame his polite attention. "Would you like to make the meeting private, Kamenashi-kun? I believe we have things to discuss."

What?

Jin whips his head around and catches the smallest of ripples on Kame's face, thoughts after thoughts. But then it's closed.

"Yes," Kame says. "Thank you." He turns to Jin with a blank, polite face, and he looks young like a Junior. "Jin, could you go and please wait in the car? I'll be down shortly." He pulls out the keys, BWM logo dangling and falling cold into Jin's hand.

_Please._

"Of course," Jin says. And _of course_ , he doesn't even know why he's surprised when nothing about this is surprising.

He rises, and gives Kimura a meticulously respectful bow. He didn't come here to ruin Kame's game at the last minute. "Thank you for listening," he says politely, because that's what you do when you're nobody. How good he could be of service.

The girl sees him to the door. Jin thanks her, too. Then he finds his way out.

He sits in the car on the passenger side and his eyes hurt, and he's trembling, probably from the fucking fatigue.

He didn't even sleep. Just came here because Kame called, right after his shift. From Tokyo Dome to nights in boxes. He lives in a box and he works in a box, and he can go right on doing that for the next five, ten, twenty years, and he's not good enough for meetings.

He sinks low as he can in the leather, lets the car cushion him. Grey and damp outside, and his heart is pounding and it won't slow down. Just won't slow down.

He should be happy his word counts for something. Important contribution, like the guy who brings the snacks. Don't underestimate the snacks.

The rain's turned to drizzle which comes to die in a wet film on the windows. He doesn't even want music. He's so tired.

Shortly. That's what Kame said. Jin watches the raindrops on their trails down the window. Starts wondering which ones will get to the edge first, the small ones or the fat ones or the ones that slip together on their way down. He takes bets with himself, winners and losers.

Maybe some uncompromising geniuses too.

Shortly, and Kame will drive him home, and he can sleep, and keep his brain from spinning like this.

He watches the rain. At least he's got entertainment.

He hits his knees on the glove compartment when the driver's door is yanked open. Kame drops in with unusual clumsiness. The door bangs shut again, and he's got Kame staring straight at him. Kame with horrible humidity hair and thin, stressed lips.

It's quiet. The car and all, Jin thinks. And the rain.

"Thank you for waiting," Kame says.

Jin nods. Sure. No problem. What's a bit of waiting.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to argue with him. I didn't mean to send you out, that wasn't supposed to go like this. I just… I didn't want to disagree with him."

Yeah. Sure. Jin figured. Nice to have confirmation, though. "Did it help you?" Really nice.

Kame leans back and exhales so loudly that it shows as fog on the window. "Yes. You were perfect. We haven't got it all figured out yet but this really made a difference. Thank you."

Jin stares ahead and nods again. "Take me home."

The car comes on almost straight away, and with it cool air and a soothing hum. Kame's taken them down to the main road when Jin feels the knot in his chest easing.

He watches the windscreen wipers. Fwop, fwop, fwop, fwop, like a hypnotizing watch.

"I'm trying to bring them back into the company," Kame says, and Jin can hear his own pulse, just one beat, wham. "I can offer them a deal, a good one, and they're doing well but they can do better with us. But Kimura stopped trusting me somewhere along the line."

Wow. "Why do you want to get them back?"

"Because we'll also do better with them. And it'll make me look good. Julie chased them away. I bring them back." There's a tight smile on Kame's lips. "And chances for that just improved a whole fucking lot."

It explains the meetings, Kame skulking about this part of town. "And the girl?"

"The girl is the key, she's my proof. Julie tried to use her to control SMAP and drove them away, and she used her to get rid of Yucchi. Nobody will like that. I just need to find that woman and get her to admit it all."

Good. All great, and Jin is glad. But mostly he wishes he had an aspirin, as the fist in his brain is dissolving.

"Kimura is pissed _off_ ," Kame says, sounding like he found something sparkling in his Lucky Bag. Jin finds himself smiling.

It's not far now. Five minutes maybe. A drizzle outside, and Jin thinks of a storm, and how quiet the car is. Kame's steady driving. However little Kame's slept, it doesn't show. Kame just has focus.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure," Jin says. "Just tired."

"You can sleep soon," Kame says. His hands are sure on the wheel. Jin remembers what they smell like, and how last time they itched for a smoke. For Jin.

Sleep.

"Thanks for explaining," Jin says. "I didn't think you… I didn't think we'd talk about all that." He doesn't even look over but he feels Kame's glance. "I know I don't need to know."

"You don't," Kame says, but there's warmth in his voice, warmth that seeps into Jin like his skin is nothing. "And we're all on our guard, more and more. It's complicated."

Some things aren't.

Some things are just heat and force and burn, his head clear of all, of himself. It's floating around his head, that blankness. Everything easy.

He'd do it for Kame right in the car if Kame just took it all out of his head.

Kame pulls up at the curb. Jin's building is up ahead, grey as the sky as the street as the sun.

"Thank you again," Kame says, but he makes no move to unbuckle his seat belt. "I'm sorry for adding to your long night."

"You're not coming up?"

Kame is fumbling in his pocket. Cigarettes. He's focused, he didn't hear how high Jin's voice got. "No. I have to get back to the company while this is hot." He's got a lighter too, but doesn't do anything while Jin is still sitting here.

Of course. This is urgent, and business.

It burns behind Jin's eyes, urgent. Everything he wants and everything Kame could do, right here with his hands and his cock and his heat.

But he can't say it. He can't _say_ it.

"I'll call you," Kame says, nodding encouragingly. "Like usual."

Jin gets out of the car, like a grown-up. Says goodbye, ignores the rain, makes it up the stairs on two left feet, and when his door closes, everything is quiet except the noise in his head.

 ~

_to be continued_


	11. Week 8½

## Week 8½

### Tuesday

On Tuesday, Jin wakes up at ten and goes to buy himself some cigarettes. He has to buy a lighter too, it's been that long, and he sits himself down on a damp bench in the park because he doesn't know how he feels about smoking at home, even now.

The plastic wraps have changed and Jin feels young fiddling the pack open, sticking one between his lips. But like the guitar, there's a memory in his fingers, and how to draw the air.

The taste is like something dead rolling in his mouth. He coughs. It's disgusting, and then the high spreads up along the back of neck and into his head, like a cold clean shower.

God, yes. That.

It still tastes revolting, and his lungs are in protest. But he's awake, and it feels wonderful. His prize at the end of a decade. He was maybe fifteen when he last felt a smoke kick like this.

He smokes the first one down slowly, while staring off into the park, at wet branches and trees still dark from yesterday's rain. When he lights the second, the taste's no longer so bad.

This is stupid. It took him ages to quit, it was _hard_ , and here he is, dumb like a high schooler, endangering himself the way a dad shouldn't. But for the first time since yesterday morning he's stopped shaking, one way or the other.

He pushes out his cigarette when it's done, hides it behind the same clump of grass as the first.

It's left a faint trace on his fingers. On Kame's hands the smell is older, goes deeper.

How many times will he wake up now to thoughts of Kame's hands at his hips? Often enough to turn him back into a chain smoker?

That would be intriguing, because he can't afford that, he'd need more Kame cash and that would just be... ironic. He laughs, and fuck here's the coughing fit.

He leans back on the bench, time on his hands and the sky getting lighter. Kame won't call today. Kame will be busy.

He got no update on SMAP yesterday. Or this morning. Sleep and drift and dream. Of things Kame can do, to Julie and Jun and Koki and middle-aged independent pop idols. To Jin.

Is that going to be his new thing? Like cigarettes, the kick and the high, the restlessness when he doesn't get it.

He stubs the third one out early. Whatever he is, he's not going to be _stupid_ , and maybe if he stops now, he won't miss it again.

 

### Friday

It's Friday and Kame still hasn't called. Jin's not waiting, as such, but when he sits with his afternoon tea, he thinks Kame could really send him an e-mail, just to keep him in the loop. Or something.

Nothing in the news, no new drama. He hasn't smoked a cigarette, either. He kept the pack because hey, paid for, and it's sitting in a drawer, and he hasn't touched it.

Nino's been on Music Japan with FUNky5's Mr Dark, who is called Oda-san, dueting the apology song. Jin watched the whole thing, kept grinning throughout.

He feels strangely at rest. And he's not really pissy about the lack of e-mails. It would just be nice to know if—

His phone rings, the familiar tone.

"Slum City Host Club," Jin says, "how may we help you?"

There's a moment of silence at the other end. Jin figures this whole thing must be very healthy for Kame, putting him in touch with normal people and a sense of humor.

"I have one more meeting to take care of, but I should be done in about an hour. I can be at your place in two, maybe two and a half. Does that work for you?"

Jin nods into the receiver. Two-hour notice, Kame's getting _really_ accommodating these days. "I'll be waiting."

And that's that.

He looks around. The place has been reasonably tidy since Wednesday. Not much left to do.

He shaves again, not that it's really necessary. Then he takes a long shower. Washes his hair, not that that's necessary either. But, well, plenty of time.

Plenty of time to dry it and style it, to contemplate cologne and decide on the one he's made last since 2019.

His shirt's ironed. But he'll get the bed out, clean sheets on, before he gets dressed.

Dressed to undress.

None of it takes long; even wasting time he's still ready half an hour early. He even washed up some glasses. He finished the last two beers over the course of the week, but Kame will bring more. Something to look forward to.

The beer, right.

He looks at himself in the mirror, hair and shirt and all, and sticks his tongue out at himself. Then he sits down on the futon and leisurely avenges pigs on his tab while he waits.

The bell rings at seven. Jin rolls up on his feet and clears his throat. Then he looks at the spot where he sat on the bed and smoothes out the sheet.

"Hello, you're early," he says when he swings the door open.

Kame's in the regular suit, a pink shirt with a wide collar, no tie, a plastic bag in hand. "I thought I was right on time."

"Exactly," Jin says and lets Kame step in, takes the bag off him. It's heavier than usual. "No over-running meetings?" God, now he makes business small talk.

"No, it was fine," Kame says. He blinks around the room, and Jin notices his hair is meticulously fluffy and light. A small silver hoop goes through his left ear. Jin's intrigued, but looks away before Kame notices.

"Anyway, let me put that away," he says, and deals with the beer, which is six bottles this week plus a pretty snazzy looking sake. "Impressive," Jin comments, though he feels stupidly fake.

Kame shrugs. "It was there." His eyes have a pinched look to them that makes Jin guess eyedrops, concealer, the works.

"Long week?" he asks.

"Indeed," Kame says. "In a good way, and in no small part thanks to you. But long enough that I really hope it's over now."

It's the first time Jin's heard Kame coming close to admitting he's tired.

"So... this isn't half an hour?"

It takes Kame a moment to place that. "Well," he says stiffly, "it may or may not be." It lacks the usual bite, though Jin thinks it's not for want of effort. "But I do assume that unless random disasters strike, which of course they might, I'm off schedule for the rest of the day."

"Okay," Jin says, while his brain's still sorting that. Kame, taking a night off. Talk about unexpected. "Good for you, I mean. Probably about time."

Kame doesn't dignify that with a comment, but he takes his jacket off and drapes it over Jin's chair.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"I do eat," Kame says a little sharply. "I'm not nineteen, Jin. I have—" He shuts up.

Jin feels a grin coming on. "You set yourself an alert?"

"I haven't had dinner, in any case."

Well, that's an easy fix. "Me neither," Jin says. "How about I run down to the conbini and get us something to eat?"

"I don't—" Kame processes like he's not handling surprises with his usual efficiency.

"You can still fuck me after you've had some food," Jin says, easy as pie, and pockets his wallet.

"Okay, sure," Kame says eventually.

Very long week, Jin guesses. He grabs his keys, says, "Don't let anybody in," and off he goes. If Kame replies, he doesn't hear it.

It takes him less than ten minutes to buy two bento at half price, four different onigiri, and a couple of dorayaki for sweet. When he's letting himself into the apartment again he finds Kame on the futon right where he was last time, fully dressed with a bottle of beer in his hand, his head leaned back, eyes on nothing.

He looks like an elegant zombie.

"We have food," Jin says, which shouldn't startle Kame after keys and doors and everything, but somehow Kame seems to wake up.

"Okay," he says, rolling his shoulders.

Times like this, it'd be nice to have a full-size table. They have to eat on the futon and Jin puts the stuff down for them with a twinge of worry about the sheets, and gets himself a beer.

Kame's bottle's half empty. "You're taking it fast today," Jin says.

Kame just shrugs. "Don't have to drive." He goes for one of the bentos without hesitation.

Today's just full of surprises. "You didn't take the car?"

"Taxi." Kame is making short work of the rice. Jin can't disapprove of either, the shovelling or the taxi. "Seemed to make sense."

Jin thinks so too, and not only because Kame hardly seems fit to drive even without the alcohol.

"From the SMAP offices?"

Kame shakes his head, swallows down a fish. "Was there yesterday, but no time to come here. PV filming."

Right. Sometimes Jin forgets that in among all these things, Kame is also still a functioning superstar.

"So are they on board?"

Kame gives him one brief suspicious look over his chopsticks, but then he nods. "Yes. If everything works out with the girl."

"You've found her?"

"Hokkaido." Kame takes a long, satisfied swig from his bottle. "We're flying her in tomorrow morning." He takes a deep, deep breath. The bottle is empty.

"Congratulations," Jin says. "So she's going to help you?"

"We can get her nailed for the drugs. That was the flaw in the plan, makes her vulnerable. She's pragmatic." There's a hint of admiration in Kame's voice when he adds, "Very enterprising young woman."

"But you haven't… you haven't met her, right?"

"Video conference. Even so… with that charisma, she could lead SBY64. Julie made a smart choice."

It creeps Jin out, hearing Kame evaluate Julie's conspiracy performance, but maybe that's what you do when you're trying to be _better_.

"She told us how Julie gave her access to the targets and plenty of private info. I can't wait to see Julie's face when the questions start." The satisfaction is back; Jin just thinks of what the girl knew and how she got close, pretended…

"I'd like to tell Nakamaru about her," he says. "I feel he should know she's... she's not worth thinking about anymore."

Kame's smile disappears entirely. But at least he considers it. Slowly.

"I understand that," he says in the end. "But I'd appreciate it if you gave me more time. There's a bigger picture, and I'm not ready to move, not yet. A few weeks wouldn't make a difference for him. Would they?"

After five years, probably not. "I can wait," Jin says. "Just... keep it in mind."

"I will."

Kame polishes off the dorayaki, too, and Jin gets him a second beer. Clears the plastic and bags and chopstick wrappers away.

No stains on the sheet. Score.

Jin gets back down on the futon too, and then... Kame is staring at Jin's socks. Or somewhere thereabouts. It feels like a long time that nothing happens, when things have always just happened.

Finally Kame's gaze slips up, another odd blink. Maybe he's noticing Jin did his hair. Jin would make fun of him if he knew how, and if Kame was less adrift.

"You look very good in that shirt," Kame says, staring.

Jin can stare too. And pay attention. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I sleep," Kame says. "I've slept."

No doubt. On Tuesday, maybe. "Bet you don't have an alert for it, though."

"Idiot," Kame says without sting. For a moment he seems to be mapping Jin's shirt again, Jin's neck, because Jin can feel the prickle.

"You've got the whole night?" Jin asks.

"Unless—"

"Unless disasters strike, yeah, yeah." Jin takes a breath and looks squarely at Kame. "Why don't you just crash for a few hours?"

Instantly, Kame looks more awake than he has all night. "That is not necessary."

"I know," Jin says peacefully. "But you'll feel better." He gets up again before Kame can organize his protest, and gets his pillow from the wardrobe. "Here," he says. At least Kame's catch is still decent. "Fuck me after you've had some sleep."

Kame is holding the pillow, staring at it like he caught a star and doesn't believe his luck. "I can't, though," he says, eyes flickering to...

"I'll keep an eye on your phone," Jin says. Funny how natural it seems to think this through as Kame would. "If you give me your password, I'll stay on top of your mail. Wake you up if anything comes in that looks urgent."

"This is ridiculous," Kame says, shaking his head, but he's not letting go of the pillow. Which has a week-old cover on it, but Jin figures it's better not to interfere. Then Kame says, "7161582." Jin blinks. "Ran1582. Not a word."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Okay," Kame says, in a tone of board meetings and tight schedules. Next on the schedule: sleep.

He stretches out while Jin pulls the curtains shut. Closes his eyes.

"Don't let me sleep too long," he mumbles, and Jin makes a solemn promise as he wedges himself in a corner with Kame's phone and his tab.

*~*~*

Kame gets a lot of e-mail. Jin scrolls and scrolls, trying to read without reading. Banal stuff, here a dinner invite, there a company update. Kame is a curled lump on the futon, not much but his hair visible at the top, his ass sticking out. It's filled out some. Jin catches up on the world and reads music reviews, starts to fiddle with some lyrics he was writing and stops again because it doesn't work in the silence.

Kame's slept for two and a half hours when a message from a Y.K. comes in that concerns 'flight times tomorrow.' Jin chews his lip. The message doesn't _sound_ dramatic, but...

He wakes Kame with a light shoulder shake and, "Kame."

Kame has a creepy frozen way of waking up. "Yes?"

"Nothing bad," Jin says. "But I thought you might want to see right away."

Kame takes the phone from him without another word, scans the mail, then the subject lines in his inbox. It doesn't take a minute but when he puts the phone down, his movements are exact and his eyes determined, like he's never been asleep.

"Okay?" Jin says.

"Yes." Kame glances towards the curtains. "Nothing bad. But you were right to wake me."

Jin nods and doesn't even want to make a joke.

"What's the time?"

"Around ten." He sees Kame consider that, judge it in terms of acceptable or not, and let it go. "Feeling better?"

"I... yes, I do." Kame stretches discreetly and nods to himself. His shirt hardly shows that he slept in it. "What a bitch of a week."

And now it's over, and he came straight here. Jin looks at his socks, not so dumb he doesn't notice; not so dumb he points it out either.

"I need to use the bathroom."

Jin gestures. "Third door on the right."

That squint looks a bit evil, but Jin's never really been scared of Kame anyway.

He keeps busy with his own phone, makes sure the zero e-mails he got in the time of Kame's fifty-eleven didn't double while he wasn't paying attention, and notices for the first time just how thin the wall to the bathroom is.

Then flush, and the tap, and the funny wheezing sound the pipes always make. The water turns off and the door opens five seconds later. Kame looks at him right away, and then down, and Jin can almost feel the thoughts beyond sleep and food.

"Guess you're awake now," he says.

"I used your toothpaste," Kame says as he takes the amazing three steps until he's standing on the futon. Looking up, Jin catches just a trace of mint.

"My toothbrush, too?" he says, and Kame flips two fingers against his forehead like Jin's a Bakanishi. Jin could tackle him from here, show him what's what, skinny little...

Kame's fingers, cold from water, skimming the edge of his hair, and Kame's eyes aren't playful anymore.

Not so skinny. Not silly, standing there.

 _Like this?_ Jin turns his face up with no prompt, no urging, and then he's embarrassed, and then not. Breathe, let go. Breathe.

Kame lets his hand trail, all four fingers on Jin's face, two catching at Jin's mouth. _Long evening_ , Jin thinks, and _fine_ and _I'm sitting weirdly_ and... Kame takes a tiny step back, and then he sits back down against the shelf, looking at Jin without meeting his eyes.

Yes. Fucking, after all. He's not sure why Kame stopped touching.

But he's looking. That works too. Jin kneels up, and Kame's gaze is on him every inch. It brings them closer and it lets him move, lets him unbutton his shirt, one button, two. "You want it like last time?" he asks, leaning just in Kame's space, slipping his hand down, getting the button and zip on his jeans. Kame still hasn't moved but he's swallowing, eyes burning into Jin, and Jin just starts to push the fabric down when Kame lunges forward and grabs him, fabric and skin and a hot still breath between them.

He yanks the shirt down Jin's arms, tall on his knees, his hands sinking into Jin's hair, and then they slide down, down Jin's back to his ass, groping and rough and the bulge in Kame's pants presses against him while Kame gets the shirt off like he _needs_ to. They sway, Jin holding on, keeping his balance, and maybe they should just let go, fall, take it from there.

Then Kame stops.

What?

Kame's hands are gone, and Kame sits on his heels, _away_ , much too far away.

"What?" Jin asks, feeling as stupid as before.

"I just… this," Kame says. Very coherent. Kame's noticed too, he's focusing. "You were very kind to me," he says carefully. "I appreciate that. I'll give you the money anyway. For food and for sleeping. You won't have to..."

_What?_

"No," Jin says, "wait." Because he's not following and nothing should happen here until he's figured out… how to be clear.

Kame looks at him with a frown, but he waits. He looks like he's got far too many thoughts in his head.

Okay. "I want you to fuck me," Jin says. There; clear. How good he got his head sorted out in time. "I want it."

Kame blinks once, and then his face goes bland with caution. "I don't want to make you."

"You're not," Jin says. "And you didn't whammy me with your handjobs either. I want it. I like it." It's that quiver again, embarrassment lurking, and then it just goes away. "So can we get to it?"

Seems like not. Kame just stares at him.

Because the idea of someone wanting to have sex with him is so inconceivable. Or because Jin was totally fighting him off last time too, or something. "Well?"

After a mini-eternity Kame says, "Okay. Sorry." Jin decides that'll have to do. Less talking, more doing. He gets his pants off, doesn't even care about the ungraceful picture he makes. Kame takes it all in, but he's not moving, sitting there while Jin is naked on the bed.

It should feel awful, but he knows too much. "You staying dressed?" he asks, rhetorical, but he finds he wouldn't care either way.

That gets him a smile. A genuine one. "No," Kame says, and gets to work on his shirt. "I don't think so."

All _right_.

Kame makes quick work of his clothes, doesn't even fold them. Then he's next to Jin, with a deep breath.

It sizzles when Kame's hand touches him. A light brush on his shoulder, Kame's eyes following, electric. Jin holds still. Spirit of the thing, he said Kame could.

He lets Kame map him, the first time he waits for the appreciation, memories of darker, more urgent looks teasing him. He knows how much Kame wants him, and he'll feel it, and he can just let it happen.

It's so different when he knows.

Kame leans close, and just that, everything aside, warmth and another person, is wonderful. Kame nuzzles his neck and it makes him shiver, this floating thing between them, and Kame's hands skimming lower and lighter.

Kame's not saying anything. It's all quiet. And Kame guides him down, an arm across his chest and an erection against his hip, and he's smiling and thinking and petting Jin and...

Suddenly Jin feels like he's in a bad, coy television drama. "What are you doing?"

Kame's hand stops. "Sorry, I…" He doesn't look like he's completely sure himself. "You said you wanted to."

"Yes, sure…"

Kame nods slowly, catching up with them. "And we can…" And his smile returns, mild, respectful, and Jin's still not stupid. He could always tell when Kame is putting on a show.

"I like it the way you like it."

Kame blinks at him, that bland concentration again. From the quiet it goes to a pulse in the air.

When Kame touches him next, he's closer, and the way he slides his fingers into Jin's hair is focused, watchful. He pulls, testing, soft twist in Jin's neck. "The way I like it."

Jin closes his eyes, that floating shiver coming back. "Yes." Just say it. He's had a week to know for himself.

Kame's hand goes tighter, like he means it, and Jin's balance is shot, a strain in his back. "You mean like this."

"Yes." He jumps when Kame's mouth is on his neck, hot with tongue and a scrape of teeth. "I don't want to think," he whispers. "It feels good. When I don't." When everything's gone except this, and nothing is complicated. And he doesn't see anymore why he shouldn't have it.

"Okay." Kame sounds like he's getting it. Jin blinks his eyes open and there's just a glimpse of Kame, his lips parted and his eyes hot, before strong hands push Jin down and turn him over, and oh yes. Kame's got it.

"I can do that," Kame says, and he pulls Jin's hips back, up, and Jin gets his knees under him and just waits, like that. "That works for me."

Jin's breath catches. But he doesn't have to say anything. Kame strokes his skin, not quite soothing. Squeezes a little, light pull where he spreads Jin more. Jin can imagine him looking. Looking as he runs a thumb down the crack, and it should be _so_ embarrassing. Jin just lets it flutter through him.

"That works really well for me," Kame says quietly.

Jin makes a sound, and it doesn't embarrass him either. When the thumb slips inside he can't help pushing back, whimpering, and Kame laughs.

"You like it." He pulls out again but keeps it there, rubbing in place. It's wonderful and maddening. "You want more."

Jin bites his lip. He's said as much, hasn't he? Was pretty damn clear.

The movement halts, Kame right there, just holding him. "You said you didn't want to think," Kame says. "So don't."

When Jin breathes out, his head feels light, and his limbs heavy sinking into the futon. "I want more."

"So spread your legs. Let me see you."

Jin does that too.

So Kame sees him, and it goes everywhere, tingles from the tips of his fingers through the sweat on his back, a pull in his cock.

Kame is gone for a moment, but even that… he'll be back. He's in charge. Jin won't think. Then Kame's thumbs come back sticky, rubbing there, pushing in a little more. And gone.

"Sometimes I like it rough," Kame says. It hangs in the air, certain as it is, and they've done that, they've done that when he was _scared_ and now he's just here.

"I know," Jin says, letting the high thrill of it run through him and take every last tension with it.

There's a careful breath behind him, and next Kame's hand is tight on his hip, and there's the pressure, and the deep thick slide, the sudden fullness and the panic. The other hand coming to match, pulling him close.

He's held there, gasping, trembling. It's so good.

Good when Kame pulls out before Jin's even settled, good on the deep thrust back in. When it gets faster, harder, when there's nothing but the next move.

He's been waiting for this all week.

"You _are_ greedy." Kame's voice is strained, but he sounds approving. "Might take a while to get you all fucked out."

They've got a steady rhythm now, Jin could go with it forever. Take a while. Take however long.

"Give me your hand," Kame says, and Jin's not sure… what he means, but lifts his arm backward and Kame takes it, pulls it up and onto his back. "The other one."

Jin shudders, but he gets his hand there. Gives it up.

Kame takes his crossed wrists like it's his right and it aches, and if Jin wanted, a pull would free him, but he doesn't want, god he doesn't want.

The pumping inside him, the grip around his wrists pulling him sharp against it. Kame in charge, fucking him hard. Liking it rough.

"You'll take everything and still want more, is that right?" Kame says, and he's gasping now too, and Jin moans, yes, just like that. "Say it. You want to _say_ it."

"Yes." His face is squashed against the sheets, his shoulders pulled back by Kame's grip, he's helpless, moving as Kame wants, parted knees the only point of balance, and Kame's hand. Kame tells him he wants it and he deserves it and Jin doesn't squirm away, says "yes," plain clean truth spilling out to the world, "I want it," says, "Kame." Weight and heat, more with each thrust. First time. Kame. "I'm hard."

 _Slut_.

"That's new," Kame says, skims and feels, wobbling pace but oh, god, _right there_. "You want that, too?" Almost a challenge, but challenges are some other time, are not now.

"Yes," he says, "I want," muffled and hot, "I want to come when you fuck me," and it's never been this clear, and he'll tell Kame anything and not fucking care.

Kame, with a desperate noise of his own, stroking him and fucking him, hot like burning back and front and there's no air, Kame plunging in deep and jerking him hard, Jin's going to have a heart attack.

He's whimpering with every slam, every new twist of Kame's hand. Can't move, just hangs in there, and Kame keeps him pinned and takes him high until he forgets where he is and why and doesn't know the sounds he's making any more.

He crumples, raw and still falling to pieces when Kame speeds up, goes just for himself, and forever Jin can't breathe and think and stop and thank you, _thank_ you.

"Fuck," Kame says, fingers digging hard into Jin's skin. Holding on as they still, everything slowing, sweaty, hot with Kame's thick breaths.

Then he lets Jin fall forward, guides him down. Drops down beside him and still there's the touch, warm, dirty, his ass and his thighs.

"Don't move."

Okay.

Kame's hand is at the small of his back. "You are one hot slut."

"Wasn't that always my image," Jin mumbles. He closes his eyes and thinks there must be steam coming off him. He wouldn't move if a volcano was coming for him.

"I like it when you're good and don't talk back."

He turns his head just a bit and blinks at Kame through sweaty strands of hair. "Yeah, don't get used to it."

Kame snorts, and god, he's thirty-fucking-seven and a jerk and tired around the eyes, and he's glowing.

"Don't move," he says again, and then he's gone.

Bathroom sounds, water, then Kame is back with the washcloth and Jin closes his eyes again when Kame wipes him down.

"I clean up my messes," Kame says. Jin just spreads his legs a little wider.

The cloth is warm and Kame is thorough, and at the end his fingers tickle on the back of Jin's thighs, a curious lingering.

"Turn over," Kame says then. There's not much that's not gone on the sheets but Kame wipes off Jin's come too, and then he flops, not so much the boss now, on his ass next to Jin and leans back on his arms.

Jin rolls on his side and props up his head. Thinks.

Kame is looking at him too, and apparently nap time cancels out orgasm fatigue.

"Get me a beer," Jin says.

Kame's eyebrows rise ever so slightly.

"I want it."

Kame sighs. But he gets up and goes, good man. "You want lots of things all of a sudden."

Yes. Jin's got catching up to do, from wanting nothing but peace and quiet and for his landlord to go away.

The beer is the best beer ever. Kame goes back to his spot against the shelf, and Jin gets a few minutes of really appreciating how sweaty Kame gets when he's fucking Jin's brains out. Then he needs the bathroom, and oh, boy, his legs are as lazy as the rest of him.

Kame watches him come back, every step. They spend another minute or so in silence. Yeah, Kame doesn't have to be anywhere. No rush.

After a while, Kame asks, "So what brought this on?"

Wanting it. Needing it. Of course Kame would wonder. He didn't even get the cigarette or three to get over it. "Obviously, you have a magic cock and it cured me of my heterosexual ways."

Kame actually _flushes_. "I was just curious," he says, but he's looking a bit tense for curious.

"Sorry," Jin relents. "I told you, it feels good." He's not drunk and not horny. Just fine. Even with the rest of it. "I don't think when you do it. It drowns out all the bullshit."

Kame is staring again. Thinking time. That's fine, Jin had a head start.

"I hate people telling me what to do," Jin says, and there's still the buzz, the freedom of not caring. "I've hated it so much. All the rules and the people who try to keep me in line." All those years, all those voices... it's all shut up and out of here now. "But I don't mind when you do it. I don't mind it like this. It's..."

He looks to Kame, for the words to get it right.

Kame blinks, and there's understanding there. "Everything's very clear," he says quietly.

"Exactly."

"Come here," Kame says suddenly, his voice like a tug somewhere deep in Jin's belly.

Jin hesitates, but then thinks what the hell, and shifts up until he's hovering in front of Kame.

Kame tucks the hair behind his ears; closes Jin's eyes with a brush of his hand. It tingles, like leftover glitter stirring back into the air.

Then Kame's hands come around his neck, subtle pressure. Jin holds still.

"I should put a collar on you," Kame says calmly. "My mark on you. Remind you when I'm gone."

Jin swallows against Kame's palm. He thinks he's getting hard again, and that's... surprising.

And Kame releases him. When Jin opens his eyes, he's studying him, studying like you study dinner. "Interesting," Kame says. Funny how he had his hands around Jin's neck but he's the one sounding a little hoarse.

Jin raises his chin. "Want to make something of it?" he asks, and drops his hand into Kame's crotch. "How much reminding you been doing yourself?"

Kame tenses back towards the shelf. "Thinking highly of yourself, are you."

If he is, he isn't wrong. That's Kame's cock, half-hard under his hand.

Interesting.

Kame looks strangely caught. Drawn up, watching Jin like Jin can do things to him.

Maybe Jin could. But maybe he doesn't need to make the point right now.

"You want more booze?" Jin says, sitting back on his heels. "We can use tea cups for the sake."

"I didn't plan on getting _drunk_ ," Kame points out, but his shoulders come down from yellow alert.

Jin gets up and fetches the cups from the kitchen cupboard. "Just half full, then." He's not intending to get drunk, either. "But you did come by cab, might as well make the most of it."

For a moment Kame looks like drunk driving is the least of his worries, like he's thinking about having to keep other people in line while buzzed on Jin's sake. But then he relaxes, nods. "Just a little bit."

"By the way, I saw Nino on TV with your little song," Jin says when he's sat down again. "And your little delinquent. Very harmonious."

There's a twitch of a smile on Kame's face. "Hot cakes," he says. "It'll give us a great quarter."

The sake is sharp at first. Been so long since Jin had any. But it feels good, another little glow. "So you never get to drink?" he asks. "Because you always have to be careful?"

"Oh, I drink," Kame says, making a face. "What do you think happens when I meet people from the industry?"

Yeah, okay. Stupid question.

Kame still drinks almost as slowly as Jin. Two naked guys on a futon with tea cups. Cozy.

"Meant to ask," Jin remembers, "what about Ueda? What little scandals did you have to rescue _him_ from?" Kame must have rescued him, since he's still in the band. In the company.

So he's surprised when Kame says, "None." Even more surprised that Kame doesn't look happy about it.

"Okay?" he says.

"He's had no scandal. He's very careful." Kame lowers his drink like the question reminded him he should be careful too, and damn, that's not what Jin wanted. "You could say he's staying out of all the politics," Kame says. "You could also say that nobody can figure out which side he's on."

Oh, Jin thinks. Oh, that must suck. "And you have to work with him."

"He doesn't make it difficult," Kame says with a low shrug. "He just... he does the job, and keeps himself to himself. I know he works out at a tiny private gym, and he's taking karate lessons, but even that I only know because I've had somebody check him out."

"You're spying on KAT-TUN?"

Kame gives a little laugh. "Just Ueda, because I need to know what's what, if he's meeting with Julie. I've been wondering recently if I should just have the others tailed too, though. Just so I have warning when they get into any dumb shit."

He's got to be relieved, Jin suddenly thinks, that Jin is gone and he doesn't have to worry about Jin's talent for fuck-ups, too.

He says so, and Kame gives him a long, weird look.

"I'm sure we could work out a way for me to keep you in line," he finally says with a little smile.

Jin raises his cup in a sloppy toast, then notices it's empty.

"More?" he says.

But Kame shakes his head. "I should get going. If I take an early night, I should get a good night's sleep too. I've got stuff tomorrow."

Even sleeping's a duty, with Kame.

They get up, get dressed. Jin throws on his sweatpants and watches Kame button his shirt, adjust his jacket like he could still be photographed in the cab.

"I don't know about next week yet," Kame says. "I'll call ahead when I know."

"I'm here," Jin says. "You know when I work."

"I do," Kame says. Then he goes a little stiff, before he fishes for his wallet. "Of course," he says, looking uncertain as his fingers skim the bills. "I don't quite know now..." At last he stops fiddling. "How much do I owe you?"

Very correct, very Kame, and you have to wonder where he was when they were snipping off the price tags. Of course, people still have to pay their rent. "Give me that wallet."

Kame hands it over without hesitation.

Jin clears out all the notes, a nice fat bundle. He notes the credit cards and sticks a thousand back in before he returns it, because he's not cruel, just poor. "There, you can buy yourself a coffee tomorrow morning," he says. "It's on me."

Kame blinks, and just for a moment Jin worries if he went too far. But, no, Kame's only a _little_ slow, and Jin grabs him by the jacket and kisses him square on the mouth.

Sake and surprise, tension and yeah, about time.

"I'd say don't spend it all on one place," Jin says, "but I know how you like to splurge."

Kame smashes into him, spins them and shoves him right into the door, kisses him back hard with teeth as if they've both forgotten how to do this.

Jin's squirming for more anyway, they can _get_ better, and he doesn't mind the sting, or the bruises he'll have from Kame moving him around.

"I should fuck you right against the door for that," Kame mumbles.

Jin laughs low in his throat. "What's stopping you?" Jin wouldn't.

"I have to get ready to earn more money. I have this expensive slut to keep."

"You haven't even called your cab yet," Jin points out and doesn't remove his own hands from anywhere, because the cab could take, like, five minutes.

Kame gives him a look, then gets out his phone and orders a cab to a couple of streets away without ever taking his eyes off all the places Jin isn't wearing clothes.

He slips the phone back in his pocket and grips Jin's wrist and pins it against the door; sticks his tongue in Jin's mouth and tells Jin with his hand in Jin's sweatpants just how desperate Jin must be, and when he really has to go, he's right about that.

~

_to be continued_


	12. Week 9

## Week 9

### Thursday

Jin's floating. He may be taking a swim, or maybe he's dead and dead means floating, clumsy limbs and explaining to his mom he really loves Keiko-chan, even if she's a grade above him, and she made him bento, and the bento was dry but there was sake, and Pi is not saying what he thinks of Keiko-chan and then he hears the ring. Ring ring. What?

_Shit._ Jin jumps awake, knocks the empty beer bottle down from the table as he scrambles for his phone.

"Hello?" he gets out. "Meisa? Something wrong?"

"Hey. The kids are fine," Meisa says, and that lets the air right out of... whatever. "They just left for school. I'm sorry to wake you."

He drops his head down and tugs the cover up to his neck. He doesn't think he misbehaved in any way to deserve a scolding at middle of a dream o'clock, but maybe this is about breakfast or... something. "'s fine. What time is it?"

"I don't know, eight maybe? Eight." Meisa sounds distracted, and as he processes that through three levels of heavy eyelids and heavy everything, a real awakeness starts to trickle in.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I... there's something about you in Yukan Fuji."

"What?" It's a low throb, skip of his heart. Papers was never good but papers... these days... "What, how?"

"It's in the entertainment section," Meisa says. Her voice is very low, almost dragging the floor. Jin jumps up an octave when he's upset; Meisa was always the other way around. "Yukan Fuji, some retrospective piece. My mother called me right after I'd packed the kids off, you know she reads Yukan Fuji and she actually read _all_ of it and it's a _whatever happened to Akanishi Jin_ kind of article and..."

The throbbing feeling gets worse, gets faster. He's awake now, and he's got a hunch, a very bad hunch.

"I went out and bought it first thing," she says. "Jin, it's got a picture of your apartment building. They say you work as a security guard and that you had trouble paying the rent."

Oh god. Oh fuck. His _kids_.

"I don't know how many people will see this, but I wanted to ask you what... what you want me to tell the kids. If they ask. If somebody asks them."

"Shit," he says. He's not even moving. "Shit."

"I'm sorry."

That jolts him back into here and now, somehow. "No, don't… I mean, you know that. Thanks for calling." What's he going to say? "Tell them... Don't lie to them. Say... things are slow in music and I'm making sure there's a fallback, you'll find a way to…" _Sell that._ He's making this up on the spot and it's not fair on her, but short of— wait. "I can drop by, tell them myself."

"No," she says, "that's okay." She doesn't sound okay, she sounds worried. About him.

"I'm fine with my rent now, I'll be fine, and all the child support, so that's one where maybe we can just say it's nonsense?" He sounds to himself like he's pleading. "Papers will say anything really." He knows that, from long ago.

"Why is that even _there_?" Meisa asks. "The media haven't cared about—"

She cuts herself off. But yes. And Jin's got a pretty good idea.

"Sorry," she says again, in a small voice.

"No. You're right. It's weird. Let me— okay, I'll call you back when I've got my head together, all right? Before they get home. I'll think of something."

Someone's going to think of something.

"All right," she says. "Just, keep it together, okay?" She sounds _spooked_ , like Jin's going to find himself a nice little subway track...

"I'll be fine, I promise. I just need a moment." He's not fine, but he needs a moment anyway. "I'll call you back, okay?"

He hangs up on her and calls Kame's number. Calls it three times and lets it ring through, and if Kame is in a meeting, he is going to _pick_ the fuck up.

Kame answers on the fourth try, and what little irritation Jin had just rushes out of him and leaves his hand shaking.

"What?" Kame says. "What do you want?"

"There's an article about me in Yukan Fuji, it's got a picture of where I live and they know I had trouble with rent and that I work in the box. Meisa just called me."

It's quiet at the other end. Or not quiet, Jin was right about the meeting, or whatever, something's in the background. But Kame's quiet.

"It's you, isn't it? I mean, your thing with Julie."

"That is likely," Kame says, slow and careful. "What else does the article say?"

Shit. More shit. "I don't have it, my wife called me. I just woke up."

"I'll ask around," Kame says. "I'll let you know what I find."

There's a pause. Kame hasn't hung up.

"Kame, my kids can't know this." He hears his own voice, and it doesn't sound good.

"I understand," Kame says curtly. "I'll call you back."

*~*~*

So Jin's on hold. He paces for five minutes before he remembers to go online and check for this. Nothing. He runs a search on himself and finds the newest things are still years old and make him feel like shit all over again.

He should have got a paper too. Damn. But he doesn't want to be outside now, when Kame calls back. He can't have this conversation... out there. Fuck, pictures of the apartment.

That's when he checks his curtains are properly drawn.

He should have got a paper. Who knows when Kame will have a moment to call.

It's more than ten minutes, less than fifteen when his phone rings with the Kame ringtone.

"Sorry," Kame snarls right away, "that stupid fuck who's on media review didn't _see_ this because it was just you." He's angry. And Jin feels some weight lift off him because...

Because why? Kame can't make this disappear. Can he? It's printed.

"What's going on?" Jin asks.

"I'm not entirely sure," Kame says. "I'm not in the article. This could just be casual sadism but I doubt it. This is about me but I don't know how yet, I'm waiting for her next move."

Waiting.

"But, my kids..."

"Yeah," Kame says slowly. There's another pause. "Deny the money problems, the rent. You're okay for money now, aren't you? The child support?"

"Sure," Jin says, "but that's not the problem. The problem—" Kame doesn't know the extent of the problem, it suddenly hits him, because why would Jin have told him, ever. "The problem is my kids think I still make music, they don't know about the job. They don't know about the kind of place I live in."

"Oh," Kame says, and then it's quiet. Jin would give a lot to know if it's the quiet of frantic problem-solving or the quiet of speechless disgust.

"Okay," Kame says, "stall them. Admit the security job, that's just a fallback, you're working hard even on your weekends, music's an unsteady business."

Jin almost laughs.

"Stall them on the rest. Tell to your wife to stall them, tell them you've got no idea what's going on and why they're writing this nonsense. And give me a day." There's a long hard breath on the other end.

A day? Kame's going to make this okay in a _day_? Jin expected this to never go away, now.

"And... draw the curtains, stay indoors. Just to be on the safe side."

"I will," Jin promises. "I've done that."

"I just need a day." Kame sounds almost like he's asking Jin a favor.

"Will you keep me in the loop?" Because a day can be for fucking ever. "Please?"

"Yeah, I'll keep it in mind. I'll try. Just lie low."

Jin's been lying low, really low, in the shambles of his career for so long, it shouldn't be that much of a stretch.

He hangs up and washes his face, sits down in the corner farthest from the door, grabs his phone close and tries to stop shaking.

 

### Friday

The last time Jin woke up before eight without an alarm was three years ago and he had the flu.

He feels like that, aching and out of focus as he stumbles through the morning. He thinks he's on his kids' schedule. They'll be on the train now.

He makes tea and by the time it's ready, they'll be in school. Maybe they'll be answering questions. They know about the night job now, he told them last night. Sara's dying to see his cool uniform.

The time just won't pass. He turns the TV on, but low, he doesn't dare make sounds. Nobody's covering this, just like yesterday.

The kids hadn't heard in school, then. But Meisa started getting calls in the afternoon. Concerned moms and colleagues. She sounded shaky. She must hate the everliving fuck out of this.

The apartment heats up as the sun rises higher, dust flakes dancing in the orange light that makes it through the curtains. This place is like some bad action film, the calm before bullets. Jin wishes he felt braver.

By the time his kids are on lunch break, Jin's hungry for the first time in thirty hours. He nibbles on some rice and waits for the phone to ring, always waiting.

It finally rings at two in the afternoon, not Kame, not kids, and Jin feels stupid with sweat when he picks it up… it's Pi.

"Hey, man. I didn't wake you, right? I waited a bit."

"No, I— it's lunch. Hi. Isn't it night for you? How are you?" God, his brain.

"Midnight, not that late," Pi says. "As for the other thing, depends on what the hell is going on. Which is what I'm trying to find out."

Oh god. Pi has heard, it's made it to _America_.

Then he rallies, it's nonsense, it didn't even make it on Mezamashi. He doesn't matter, is he still not used to this?

"Why," he says, "how do you know something's going on?"

"Had a phone call from Kamenashi at ten this morning. Like, in person."

_Kame_ told Pi?

"About _me_?"

"No, about— No, not about _you_. About... wait. Why would he call me about you?"

"Never mind," Jin says, "later. I'll explain." Some of it. "So what… what's going on?" _Jin_ hasn't had a phone call from Kame this morning.

Pi laughs as if he said something funny. "Kamenashi says something big is going down, and to sit tight and not go anywhere if I can help it, and not at all without a minder. He's basically… I swear to you, if he could have put me on formal house arrest, he would have. It was weird."

Right. Okay, that fits, that makes sense, keeping Pi safe. "Just do what he says. That's what I'm doing."

He can hear the gears clicking in Pi's brain. Or maybe it's just the crackle of static. "He called you, too?"

Shit.

"Not since yesterday," Jin says, and his brain feels stuck in a loop, he can't tell he can't _lie_ oh fuck he can't tell. Fuck. "I... someone put all the old crap about me in the papers again. You know, my glorious life. And there's stuff going on at the company, and it may be connected, but we don't know how. I'm..." He stares ahead at his locked, orange-shaded door, and that's not a secret, really not. "I'm just stuck at home. I know fuck-all right now."

"Shit," Pi says. Yeah, they understand each other.

He makes Pi talk to him for twenty minutes, about any old crap, his latest gig and some bartender chick he likes. Then he remembers he doesn't know what his phone will do if Kame calls and the line is engaged, because when's the last time two people wanted something from him, and he almost cuts Pi off and feels like a dick.

"But… he's on this?" Pi asks then, "he's helping you?" and it sounds like he realizes Kame has no reason to help Jin out, in any way, these days. Jin's not part of Kame's agency.

"He is, actually," Jin says. "I don't know what he can do, but… yeah. And he said he'd keep in touch." He hates how plaintive that sounds to him.

"I'll get out of your line then," Pi says. "I should catch some sleep. I'd like to do your man Kamenashi the favor of staying in tomorrow, but there's a couple hundred Rednecks would break the door down."

"You'll be careful, though," Jin says urgently. "He knows what he's doing, he isn't kidding, this is… stuff can happen to you."

The pause makes him wonder if he just sounded very crazy. But then Pi says, "Yeah. I get you. I'll be careful. And sometime soon I'm gonna ask you what precisely you know and how, but right now I'll love you and leave you."

And that's that.

It passed half an hour, and now it's afternoon, and his kids will come home from school and tell Meisa just what got said to them, if they got hassled, and there's nothing Jin can do.

Nothing he can do about anything, except wait, sitting here in his orange and hot apartment where he's afraid to open a window, in tank-top and boxer shorts, too nervous to even drink the last beer.

Wait and give Meisa time to talk to them, not put her on the spot even more. She'll call him when she's dealt with it as much as she can.

He's such a loser.

Meisa calls around five. Akira is in his room, playing computer games and he's "okay" and school was "okay" and now he wants to build his volcano city, "okay?"

But they both know their son, and it makes Jin crazy that he's stuck here in his box and he can't even… God, what would he even do, except try to lie better?

Sara on the other hand is taking it all in stride and, according to Meisa, still won't shut up about the security job and how cool that must be. "It's a bit scary, but I think she's got a uniform fetish," Meisa says, and that's the first time today Jin laughs, and he really loves her, always will.

And he's alone again.

It doesn't get any less boring, any less suffocating. He picks up the guitar, if he plays quietly nobody will know he's here. But he can't concentrate on that, either. In the end, he watches anime re-runs on his tab with his earbuds in and the phone resting on his leg, shuts everything out, and tries to feel young and hopeful again.

He's at the end of episode two of One Piece when the phone rings and buzzes, cranked up to max. He pulls his earbuds out quickly, and… Kame.

"Anything new?" Jin says.

"Getting there," Kame says. "I am just calling to say I'm still working on things. So far it's going well. I should have more later tonight."

Right. That's… enlightening. "Good to know," Jin says, and if he doesn't sound very enthusiastic, Kame doesn't seem to mind.

"You're still at home, yes?"

"Yes. You said."

"Good," Kame says. "Stay there for now."

Jin rolls his eyes towards the shabby ceiling. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir."

"Very good," Kame says, utterly ignoring the irony. Jerk. "Oh, one more question, your building manager, his name's Yubawara?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just checking," Kame says. "I'll be in touch again later."

And he rings off.

Jin sighs, puts his earbuds back in, and starts the episode over. Just as well he still has about a thousand episodes to go while the day simmers down into a soupy night.

#### *~*~*

It's episode nine and Usopp is in the middle of his Giant Goldfish story when Kame next makes him jump. "Yeah?" he says. It's five after nine. Sara will be in bed. Akira will be building his volcano city, or something thereabouts. He's allowed to stay up till eleven on a Friday.

"Okay," Kame says, like this is the end of a conversation, not the start of one. "Okay. I'm wrapping up here. I can be at your place in an hour. I'll bring you up to speed then."

"I'll be in," Jin says, catches up with himself and snorts, in a hysterical sort of way.

"Yeah." There's a pause, and a similar sound at the other end.

Wait. "Hang on. You're coming _here_? But what about reporters, what about the pictures?" God, he must have been dazed, what the fuck is Kame even talking about?

"I know, but it doesn't matter," Kame says calmly. "She's got other things on her mind now."

That shuts Jin up. An hour.

He showers and shaves, and all the way through he feels weak and weird because they're obviously not going to _fuck_ now. Though maybe they should, Jin figures he needs every opportunity given that he'll need a new apartment, after what he told his kids, and he fumbles his hair into a messy tiny ponytail and puts on a clean t-shirt and doesn't do anything else, because he can't think anymore. He's feeling too stupid for _One Piece_ now.

His door bell rings shortly before ten, and there's a knock too. Jin checks the spyhole, just in case, and pulls the door open, stepping back to let Kame get in quickly. The cooler air washes over him, and it's lighter out there from the building's stair lights than in here, Jin's only put on the little lamp over his stove.

It's as if Kame is here for the first time. Jin feels again how shabby everything is, just what a _mess_ he is.

"Bit stuffy in here," Kame says, but without sting.

"I kept everything closed."

Kame nods, locks the door behind him, and shrugs out of his suit jacket. "You okay?" His shirt's looking less than crisp for a change.

"Mostly," Jin says, and wonders if Kame can smell his panic and pacing, if it's just clinging to the room. "Why are you here?"

Kame smiles, mostly to himself, and it's a strange smile. "I'm done for today."

Yes, Jin thinks, but why is he _here_? Unless it's the obvious after all. "What about the reporters," he prompts. "You said you'd fill me in."

"Can I have some tea?" Kame says. "Tea would be great."

So Jin starts making tea.

"You told your kids that you live here for now?"

"I said my old apartment was getting renovations, and I had to take the first thing quick," Jin says, clinking the fragile tea cups until his nerves snap and he grabs two of his chipped coffee mugs. "My daughter thinks it's cool I'm a security guard, too." His throat closes.

"Sounds like a sensible girl," Kame says. Jin passes him the white mug with a faded cat on it. He checks the curtains again, and startles when Kame turns on the little lamp he uses at night.

Okay then.

"I think she got tipped off by the cab driver from last time," Kame says. "That's how you and your apartment got into it. I'm sorry about that."

"But… you came here now? Isn't that dangerous for you too?" Kame's not exactly secret-agenting about.

"I'm not worried about reporters," Kame says. "Because nothing says I can't have meetings with you, and because you're..." He hesitates, shrugs a little. "Well. You're not very significant in the scheme of things."

Yeah, Jin got that. Kame gives him a long look, badly hidden over the tea.

"It's okay," Jin says. "Actually, it's good. Cause I can live without a follow-up story."

"Trust me," Kame says. "There's not going to be a follow-up story." He leans against the shelf – he was there naked and sweaty, flushed after... _shut up_ – and fixes Jin with dark eyes. "I had a long meeting with Julie today."

Oh. The filling in. A shudder races down Jin's back, and that's stupid, they've just established Jin's not even a _blip_ in this thing. "And?"

Kame's not smiling, but his face is shining with something anyway. "I told her that I know about the girl, about SMAP and Nakamaru. I told her I've got proof of the entrapment and the drugs, and if she doesn't resign, I'll go public with it."

Jin almost drops his tea. "Wait, but… Nakamaru _walked_ so nobody would hear about the drugs. He could go to _jail_!" And it'll be Jin's fault, because he trusted Kame, and Kame can't do that.

"I'll get him a good lawyer, if it comes to that," Kame says. "I don't think it will. I think she'll go."

Jin is staring with his mouth dry. Kame's eyes are feverish.

"It was a long meeting," he says. "We were at it for three hours. I talked her through all the possibilities. SMAP are willing to come back if she steps down, I told her that too. Messing with Kimura's marriage could make her more hated than the machinations with the drugs, I think."

SMAP, coming back to the company. Jin can already imagine the Dome show. It's going to be the event of the decade. And Kame behind it, Kame orchestrating it – nobody'll be able to touch him after that.

"When will you know?"

"I gave her until morning. Twelve hours. If she's not calling a press conference by ten, I have people ready to go at lunchtime tomorrow."

All the pieces in place. It's like a military campaign, Jin thinks, swift and merciless.

"Pi called me," he says. It brings Kame's head up, but it's not quite suspicious alarm. "Said you told him to stay home and bake cookies."

"I warned the people I care about," Kame says. At Jin's frown, he adds, "Told the rest to shut the fuck up around reporters until I say otherwise. In company speak."

Jin laughs. Second time today, and it's needed and he's wobbly, but in the mercenary part of his brain he knows whatever's going down will drown out any interest in the old has-been company rebel called Akanishi.

"It's an offer she _can't_ refuse," Kame says, brimming with strength. "I gave her a good deal, she'll be rich, she keeps her reputation, that's more than she deserves and I told her so."

He could scare people. He's that confident, that _sure_.

"So you're here for your celebration fuck?"

Kame presses his lips together, eyes raking over Jin with a flash of heat.

"Come here," he says quietly; motions with his fingers.

Jin feels stupider, sillier, when he's not naked and they're talking business coups and bargaining, but the pull works almost the same.

Kame slips one hand under Jin's t-shirt, but slow, and light, just a warm presence on his stomach. His other hand rises, Kame's fingers... tender, tracing his mouth. They linger, and Jin kisses them.

Kame sighs. "I have to stay sharp," he whispers, and the touch fades out from under Jin's t-shirt.

"I thought it was all settled," Jin says, fuck. Talk about wobbly.

"It is," Kame says, a last light brush on Jin's lips. "It should be. If she has any sense. But this was faster than I planned and I've got to stay sharp. I'll feel better if I do."

"Okay," Jin says. He can see that, in Kame's logic.

Fast was for him. For Jin and his kids and his pride. "So why are..." No, he won't ask again, it's not for him to make Kame say why, of all the places he could be, he's here where it's stuffy and dark and there's no fucking. "I'll keep until tomorrow," he says instead, and Kame's mouth curves up at the edges.

"Right now I could eat," he says as he picks up his tea again. "What have you got?"

Not much. "Rice," Jin says. "Eggs. Instant ramen." He gestures at the curtains. "You know."

"Sounds fine," Kame says, "just do something." He's looking at Jin's tablet, where he stopped the episode when Kame knocked. "That's the Black Cat Pirates at Syrup Village."

"Yeah. I had a lot of free time today." Jin puts the rice cooker on, and feels Kame move behind him, wonders what he's planning… But Kame just leans against the fridge.

He watches Jin cook. At first Jin thinks it's to supervise and correct, old-school Kame stuff, but Kame is just... there, watching.

"Want beer?" Jin asks, though he can guess the answer.

"No, shouldn't," Kame says. "Don't really want to, actually." There's something languid to his movements, a shimmer in his eyes. Maybe he's right, maybe duking it out with Julie at last is better than any drug.

Jin knows how Kame fucks when he's stressed, wound up too tight. Now he wonders how Kame fucks when he's won.

Kame eats heartily and without complaint when the rice is done. Jin, too, after he's sat down and noticed the stress is gone, and his body hasn't been fed right for two days.

"This is good, thank you," Kame says to egg on rice, and Jin thinks about getting the futon out so they can sit more comfortably.

"How long have you got?" he asks. "When do you have to leave? Do you want to stay the night?"

It feels so strangely normal just to ask. Kame doesn't seem to think it's weird, either.

"I don't know," he says, and it sounds genuine. "I'm thinking, I should be fresh tomorrow, but I'm too awake from this to sleep, and… I don't know. Is that okay?"

These days, what's a bit of missed sleep. And Jin's used to the night shift now. "Sure," he says. "We can watch more One Piece, if you want."

Kame laughs a little breathlessly. "Maybe, yeah."

In the end, they don't watch anything. Jin makes more tea and he does get the futon out, and they sit. Open windows, the faintest of breezes, and Kame tells Jin everything about the details, the conversation, it's just spilling out of him. Going back years, the first time he knew Julie was a danger. Kame's kept the suit on, staying sharp, but his legs are sprawling wide and his hair gets mussed from the way he leans into the bookcase. For the first time in forever the room doesn't feel like a box, it feels like shelter.

He asks about the article, and Jin tells him about the housewives calling Meisa in concern, asking if her husband's homeless. That's a moment when Kame's eyes go dark and narrow. But it passes, smoothed out when Jin brings up Sara and the uniform, muses about introducing her to Nakamaru when they have all made up, and Kame gets a glow of nostalgia about him. Then he brings Jin up to his present with a recap of ten years of tours and development, and the song politics that have grown stale on him.

It's around midnight when Jin checks the time again. "Long day," he says, sort of to commemorate the moment.

"Yes. Very long." Who knew sharks could look happy. Maybe Kame will be able to sleep at some point after all.

The phone rings a few minutes later. Kame's phone. A shot of energy goes through him and makes him shine before he's even standing.

"Surrender call, maybe?" he says, smiling as he goes to pick up the phone. "Would be about time." Swipe, buzz buzz. "Hello?" Then he blinks. "Koki?"

Jin has a moment to wonder, more cat torture, different rumors about Koki, Koki's just worried about Kame...

Kame freezes, stiff as stone. Color draining until he's just as grey. "Are you sure?"

Jin's heart speeds up, _oh fuck_ , and suddenly Kame's head is whipping around, for... Jin doesn't know.

"I'll call you back, stay by the phone," Kame says, rock and stone and gravel. Then he hangs up.

Fuck. _Fuck._

"That was Koki," Kame says, tight control, so tight. "Turn on the TV. Julie's jumped from the twentieth floor of the agency building. She's dead."

### Saturday

The first thing Jin sees of the scene is a red swipe of light, hitting Kame's face.

There's ambulances. Police. Light next to light before a dark drizzly sky. There's cameras.

Jin's wearing his suit, his best suit, like Kame told him.

"Are you sure I shouldn't get out now?" Jin asks. Kame seems sure of everything. But he might just be sleepwalking, the car slow in approaching, a last reprieve.

"Yes," Kame says, his knuckles white. More red and blue on his face, and maybe it's too late anyway, maybe someone saw already. He looks like a ghost. "Stay silent. Hold your head up."

Even closer, and now there's white light too, camera flashes piercing the tinted glass as they pull up to the yellow police tape and stop.

"Now you can get out," Kame says, pulling up the hand brake. "Stay close to me."

He opens his door so Jin does the same. Then Jin's stuck too far away from him as the reporters descend on Kame, a fusillade of flashlights and a sea of microphones and recorders. Jin had forgotten what it could be like.

Kame waits them out, just looks for Jin to come around the car. It takes a moment until maybe someone remembers, but somehow there's room for him through the throng, murmurs of _Akanishi,_ and flashes again, so many flashes.

"This is a tragic night for all of us," Kame says. He sounds quiet and yet his voice carries perfectly. "We will release more information shortly but I am sure you understand that we need to speak to family and friends first." He nods here and there, and then at Jin. When he turns they actually let him walk, Jin following in his path.

Kame drops the car keys with the door guard, who looks at Kame like Kame rode in on a white horse. Between the cars with swirling lights Jin gets a glimpse of a white sheet on the ground, flat, and he doesn't want to look there, who knows what's still on the pavement, if... shit. Breathe.

The door opens and lets them through. Then everything's silent. Silent and grey, office at night.

"Are you okay?" Kame asks, voice deep like the shadows in the corners are dark.

"Yeah," Jin replies. Still in keeping-his-mouth-shut mode.

They walk through a tall echoing lobby and down the corridor, the shadows closing around them the further away they walk from the glass entrance.

"The elevator for staff is at the back," Kame says. Jin's never been here. He didn't know the company _had_ twenty floors now.

Another door on the way opens, Jin catches stairs. Parking garage. Ohno and another... that's Aiba. Jin hardly recognizes him.

Ohno and Aiba stop dead. Nobody speaks, not them, not Kame, and then Kame takes the elevator with Jin. Fifteenth floor. The lights slip by.

Kame uses the gleaming mirror on the walls to check that his hair is unmussed, his suit is spotless, and then he watches the floor count with a dead expression.

When they step out there's light, but it seems no less grey to Jin, the way it's washing them out. Another corridor, short to one side and long to the other, and Kame heads down the long way. There are offices here, and more people. It's one in the morning, but maybe this drives everyone in.

They're standing in doorways, a couple girls near the bathroom. Jin sees suits and jeans, red eyes and day-old hair. Conversations that are hushed and quiet, and when Kame walks past everything goes silent. Jin guesses they were waiting for him.

Kame is bringing order and authority. But he's also bringing change, and nobody speaks to them. Jin wouldn't speak to him either, as forbidding as he looks. Not if he was just some middle management flunky with a job to lose.

Though they're not all admin, he realizes when he sees Ueda; with a sober hair cut and in a sober suit, dark hair and a darker stare. None of the badass glamor of his latest advertisement. He doesn't try to talk to Kame.

Jin keeps hearing his own name, in whispers, after they pass.

Kame's office is right at the end. It's the only one that has a reception, with desk and big couch and carefully arranged flowers. There's no receptionist now, but there's Koki, saying, "Kame," and stopping to stare at Jin like he's seen a ghost. Jin gives him a smile but says nothing. This is Kame's show, every single part of it.

"Koki," Kame says, then nods to the other three present. "Yuuya, Yuuta, Yuuto. Thank you all for coming here."

Jin only recognizes Tamamori because he's seen him on billboards advertising after shave recently. He's filled out a lot, but in a good, powerful way. By contrast, Nakajima doesn't seem to have changed at all.

"Kame, are you okay?" Koki moves towards Kame as if he wants to hug him, ends up clutching Kame's arms instead.

Kame nods, frees himself gently. "I'm fine," he says, and pats him on the shoulder. There's something sad about it all and Jin doesn't even know why. "Let's get to work, okay?"

"They're waiting for you," Koki says. Jin thinks his eyes may be wet. "The small meeting room. We gave them coffee."

"That was well done," Kame says, but his eyes are faraway. He's standing tall like he's bracing himself for something. "Send someone down to give the press some coffee too." He turns to Jin. "I hope this won't take more than an hour. Koki will show you where things are, in case you want anything." _Don't go away_ , Jin hears and he nods.

"Shouldn't I come with you?" Koki says, but Kame shakes his head.

"If they want to talk to you they can ask for you."

"I don't think you should be alone with them. Yuuta got the lawyers out of bed, they'll be here any minute."

"I'll be fine," Kame says, and it sounds kind and final. "You'll help me by looking after Jin."

"Right," Koki says. "Yes." Jin should have asked Kame what his story's supposed to be, why he's here. Kame doesn't need fuck-ups tonight.

He finds himself scrutinized openly as soon as Kame has left the room. "Cops?" he asks, easy as he can. Harmless.

"Yeah." Koki spares a wistful look at the door Kame just walked through, and then he's focused on Jin again. "Guess that's to be expected. What are you doing here?"

"I was there when he got the call. He asked me along." At least Kame doesn't have to worry about an alibi.

"He never mentioned he's hanging out with you again."

"Guess he plays things close to the chest," Jin shrugs, feeling fake again but everyone's so wound that even his dodgy acting will do. "Besides, who'd advertise they're hanging out with me?"

Koki rolls his eyes away like he can't quite admit the point. He's got a trimmed goatee and a piercing in his eyebrow. His hair is dark brown, and he looks different the way Koki looked different every six months, and so somehow entirely the same. Eventually he gestures Jin through the wide door. "You can wait in here. I'll have someone bring you coffee too."

"Thanks," Jin says. "Coffee would be great."

Kame's office is elegant, spare, and grey. Jin's shocked.

He wants to go to the window but stops in front of Kame's huge empty desk. The dark leather chair behind it could seat them both and still have room for a little lapdog. Kame's not even sitting in it and Jin's preemptively intimidated.

There's nothing personal anywhere. No photograph. No baseball mementoes. Nothing. One corner of the desk holds a small, olive and grey ikebana arrangement which Jin is just sure Kame had absolutely nothing to do with. The secretary probably has it changed once a week, always making sure to avoid actual colors.

The door closes on him. Tamamori and Nakajima, Tegoshi and Koki in Kame's anteroom. They must be close. Or just less distant than the rest. Jin's in here, still not good for meetings, and he's never cared less.

Kame's view of Tokyo is not as great as Jin once pictured. Just more office buildings opposite, a slash of night sky where one of them is lower. Jin's tempted to look into desk drawers and see if there's half-used aspirin packs and chewed pencils, but he knows that if Koki walked in on him he'd die.

He hopes Kame is okay talking to the cops.

He drops himself on the ikebana-colored couch, low and clearly less splendid than Kame's boss chair. Outside there are voices. Being here, like this, is unsettling. He brings out his phone and picks a game, but after a minute he just puts it away. There's blood and brains on the pavement outside, and Kame is talking to cops and Jin's so glad they were together, but he's not glad for what he knows.

Kame knows it too. Who did this, why it happened now. Jin could see it in his eyes, in the way he gripped the steering wheel.

He starts when the door opens, even though it's just a gentle click. Tegoshi, with coffee.

"Hey," Jin says. He doesn't really know what he should say to Tegoshi. "You got a promotion?"

"I volunteered," Tegoshi says with a perfect, happy-to-serve smile. "It's a long night for everyone, nobody should be without coffee." He puts a small tray down on the equally small coffee table.

"Thanks," Jin says.

"I read you were getting evicted," Tego says. "Is that true?"

"I heard you raped some actress on camera," Jin says. He's getting used to being fake. Maybe the ikebana's giving him vibes, or something. "Was that true?"

Tegoshi inclines his head as if he's flirting with Jin, and has a sip of his own coffee. "Fair point."

"Are you supposed to be talking to me? Koki'll think my cooties are going to infect you."

Tegoshi gives him the same smile, edging on creepy. "Julie's gone. No more cooties." Right. "Did you see..." The body, the cops. "...anything?"

"No. I got here late. I don't think anybody but the porter actually saw the body. He says there was a falling black shape and a crunch."

Jin winces despite himself.

"Why are you here?" Tegoshi's always been blunt.

"I'm not sure. Kame brought me along."

"Why are you with him?"

The door's ajar, but all Jin sees is a strip of brighter carpet and the legs of someone leaning against the secretary's desk. "That's what worries Koki, right?"

"We all have an interest in what's going on with Kame-chan."

It says something about Kame that the nickname doesn't sound the least bit mocking.

Tegoshi's still waiting. Right.

"We were catching up," Jin says. Safe enough. No mention of fucking or how this time, they didn't. "We've been in touch."

Tegoshi's perfect round eyes go narrow for a second, but then his face smooths over. He's not a beginner here either. "Great," he says encouragingly. "It's good to see you involved again and maybe come out of retirement." Bouncy and glib, and Jin's not going to hazard a single word on what Kame-chan's plans might be.

"Thanks for the coffee," Jin says. "I'll try not to spill it on anything."

Tegoshi laughs. It sounds sharp in the grey silence, the click of the door as he leaves even sharper.

The voices get busier outside when Jin's cup is half empty. He tenses at once, but before he has time to get really antsy, Kame opens the door and sticks his head in. "I'm back," he says, and leaves the door open. Jin doesn't need more of an invitation.

Koki is staring at Jin, Tegoshi looking openly curious and Nakajima like he still doesn't know what to think about Jin. Jin couldn't care less. "You okay?"

Kame nods curtly. "Sure. I just explained that the police are looking over the security tapes. That should clear things up fast." He glances toward the water heater and Koki turns on his heel, measures coffee into a mug. "They won't let anyone in her office and I don't know if she left a letter. If there's a letter I hope it's not too embarrassing, or that the police won't leak it." He takes the mug from Koki and sips. "Thanks."

There's a knock on the door, and Nakajima takes two quick steps towards it.

"Ah, Hayashi-sensei," Kame says to the round-faced, balding man who is sticking his head around the door. "Come in, we've been waiting."

The next five minutes are hilarious as Kame is told off by his lawyer for speaking to anybody, especially police, without proper representation. Koki and the guys look like they expect a bomb to go off, but Kame takes his scolding with a bowed head, like getting chewed out by lawyers is just one more of his duties.

"You haven't told your boss yet?" Hayashi asks at the end. For a moment everything goes quiet.

"Not yet." Kame swirls the dregs of coffee in his mug, slowly. Jin wishes they could be alone. "She'll still be as dead in the morning. Fujiwara is on night shift, he'll call me when Johnny wakes up. I'll talk to him then."

#### *~*~*

It goes like this, for hours. Kame comes and goes, between press statements, the cops and fretting employees, jobs for Koki and jobs for Tegoshi, and orders for people at the other end of Kame's phone. Kame is stiff and grey, cutting through tired air wherever he walks, and Jin drifts between the two rooms and tries to just be there. It seems like his job.

At three, Kame tells the guys to go home, sleep and shower, and to tell everybody else to do the same. Jin watches them go. Then he watches Kame let his jacket slide off and drop it carelessly on the secretary's desk. They go inside and Jin closes the door behind them.

It's cool in the office. Jin doesn't know if that makes him sleepier or more awake. Kame sits on the couch, staring off into what's left of the night. It's a small couch, but there's still room in the second corner, so that's where Jin sits. Only one lamp is on, a tiny one. In anybody else's office it would be for softness, coziness. There's nothing soft in here.

"I don't think she left a letter," Kame says. Then they say nothing for a while.

Jin takes his shoes off and pulls his feet up, wrapping his arms around his knees. He's got an eye on Kame, both eyes, really; grey-in-grey Kame in his grey office. He doesn't start when Kame leans forward and drops his face in his hands, heels pressing into his eyes.

"Still okay?" he asks.

Kame nods without raising his face. "It went better than it might have."

That's something. Kame's exhausted but he also seems together, parked here in his office as they wait for the morning.

Kame tilts his head once. There's a crack in his neck. "You're not telling me I should get some sleep."

"No." Kame needs to be awake.

But he can't keep drinking the dark brew they've been plying him with, and Jin makes himself move. He knocks on two offices and finds some low-level minions who have no clue who he is, pulls some unexpected authority out of his ass and gets a stressed-out accountant type to run down to one of the all night coffee places to get a mild soy latte with lots of sugar, the kind that's marketed to seniors and their sensitive stomachs.

"Thank you," Kame says when Jin comes back with it, wrapping his hands around the cup.

Jin pulls his legs in again, curling up in his corner, but Kame's eyes are out towards the night, his body all angles and concentration.

"I want you to come work for me," he says.

Jin's mind was still on coffee and food. "What?" he says when he catches up and his breath stops and he thinks, _Make music?_ before he can be rational.

"You need a job. You need to move to a new apartment. You can have an office here, I'll pay you well enough."

Work for Kame. Work… in Johnny's. An office, here. Jin gets with it as the jolt of music dies.

It sounds decided. A pity job, one Kame can make up for lowlife losers who saw him sleep and felt him kiss like it's the last kiss in the world.

"Why?" he asks. "You're getting my ass cheap anyway."

Kame blinks at some faraway light, his mouth pressing together. "Don't be an idiot. You always had talent. It shouldn't go to waste." He gives Jin a blunt stare, much more awake than the rest of him. "But you always had too much pride too."

It hangs there meaningfully. The last nine weeks established all they needed to know about Jin's pride.

"Sometimes I hate you," Jin says.

Kame's shoulders move as if he's too tired to shrug. "Lots of people hate me. They work for me anyway."

Kame always wanted to be loved.

"I mostly don't hate you," Jin admits.

Kame's mouth quirks up, also tired, just a bit. "Is that a yes? The company could do with you."

"The company doesn't want to _know_ me," Jin points out. "I have no reputation left here. All the things…" The things he did, the things they did and said… "People have memories."

Kame gives him a sideways look. "You remember how they could always just define what really happened?"

Like Jin would forget. The story's what they make it, always. "Yeah."

Kame nods. "That'll be me now." Before the chill of that can really sink in, he adds, "And I could do with you here, too."

That's true. Jin knows it like morning cracking through the night. The other thing they established in the last nine weeks. "Well, when's the last time you didn't get what you want…"

Kame's eyes tighten at the corners as if he remembers all too well, has the score card in his head. But eventually he pulls his feet up too, cradling his coffee like it's more precious than just a half-empty paper cup.

Dawn is stirring outside, more grey and more shadows. When all of this is over, Jin's going to put up some bright red art in here, or a fucking Giants poster.

Jin's tea has gone cold. It can't be that much longer now until the wheels start grinding again. This mad, mad job of Kame's, his now entirely, and what does Jin even know about the enemies. He thinks of Julie, in some grey creepy office of her own, playing the same stakes, and the chill of it crawls under his skin where no hot tea can reach.

"Would you do it?" he asks into the quiet. "If you'd lost... Would you do it?"

Kame played that game too, and he won, and in all those weeks… what does Kame have beside this, the work and the game? Nothing. Jin, stashed away somewhere on the way home. Nothing.

Kame blinks up, with a dozen emotions on his face that seem slowed down from exhaustion. "I hadn't entertained the possibility," he says in a thin voice. Jin's not sure if he means jumping from a building, or losing.

How much did Julie think about it, beforehand?

Kame turns tired eyes on him. They're puffy and scrunched even in this gloom, but quite calm. "I wouldn't give up like that," he says.

Jin runs a hand over his face. There's cold sweat on it. This night is getting to him. "Kame…" This is a whole new life, a whole new… he needs to _know_.

"Don't worry," Kame says, soft and firm at the same time. He looks like this night mugged him and tossed him around and threw him in a ditch. "It's all right now."

#### *~*~*

Jin's wide awake the next two hours, while Kame first sits, then starts to pace. He thinks about Julie dying and he thinks about his kids, and now and then he gets Kame more coffee or some water. When the sun is up, he tells Kame his shirt is too worn, and helps him pick out a dark tie for the new one.

The office comes with a tiny private bathroom, and Kame washes his face and his armpits; shaves. The caffeine's made his hands unsteady, and Jin helps him get in the eyedrops so he can look fresh and ready for anything.

It's seven when Kame's phone rings. Jin's not even surprised, and Kame certainly doesn't seem to be.

"Yes," he says, and, "Yes, keep it off for now. Will half an hour be all right?" He listens for a while, and finally says, "An hour then. I'll call."

He puts the phone down and for a moment he only looks tired.

"That was Fujiwara, he was with Johnny during the night," he says to Jin. "Johnny's awake. I'll call him when he's dressed and had some time to get with the world."

Of course that would be Kame's job too. It would be awful even without the added dose of guilt, Jin thinks.

Half an hour later the first staff members start to arrive. Kame's giving orders about security at the entrances and how to stop journalists pouncing on everybody who comes in. Now and then there's a phone call, and the constant mantra _no comment_.

Then suddenly everyone's gone. Kame sits back and lights an unsteady cigarette. "I have to call Johnny now," he says. "You could go take a shower, Naomi can tell you where they are."

"Guess I could," Jin says hesitantly. "Unless... I could shower later."

Kame takes a deep drag, holds the smoke and the thought. "No," he says in the end. "I'll do this on my own."

Jin gets it, and nods. It was his game. Now it's his call to make. When Jin turns at the door, Kame's got his phone in his hand, for the first time looking like he's waiting for courage.

Jin shakes off the shiver, closes the door quietly.

The shower room is a hell of a lot classier than they ever had in the old building. He stands under the stream for a good long time, tries to let the warm water wash some awakeness into him. His eyes sting as if he got soap into them. Damn all-nighters.

By the time he gets back to Kame's office, the smoke is thicker in the air. Kame is standing behind his desk giving instructions about Kanjani's comedy program to a couple of producers, and when they scurry out, he pushes a few newspaper editions towards Jin. "Here's what we have so far, if you want to read. I'll go talk to KITTY-KISS-ME now, they're on a program later. Will you be all right here?"

"I need to call my manager at the supermarket," Jin says. "Tell him I'm not coming in tonight. I…" He doesn't even know if he was supposed to give notice. "Tell him I quit." So much for Sara and his uniform. His brain is white knots and swirls, and Kame's getting what he wants.

"Do that," Kame nods, before moving on to the next thing.

So the morning picks up where the night ended. Kame's in and out of the office, sometimes followed by a herd, sometimes alone. The police are back to reviewing the security tapes, and Kame asks Jin to step out when he has a long talk with the lead detective. Koki is letting coffee go cold in the anteroom and he looks like he hasn't slept either.

"When did you get in?" Jin asks.

"Eight," Koki says, and then nothing, then he just looks confused.

Kame asks Jin to stay when he phones up Kimura-senpai, and when he hangs up and the deal still stands, SMAP is still coming back, he seems to fall together in that big, arrogant chair. For a moment he closes his eyes, his mouth twitching like it doesn't know what it wants to do.

"Okay," he says softly, sitting up straight again. "Okay, we are in business."

Jin takes a break around eleven. He tries to keep himself from drifting, to pay attention for anything he can do. But he can't take the bustle and the thickening smoke, the grey drone in his head anymore. He slips out when Kame is called to talk to the cops again, and he'd like to be outside. But outside means reporters, or the roof, which… no.

He ends up in a grey stairwell, and it echoes back when he laughs at himself.

It's cooler in here; not the cool of the aircon but of thick concrete. Just five minutes, and he won't fall asleep. Meisa's sent him e-mails.

"Hey," he says when he calls her.

"Jin! Have you heard about Julie Fujishima? It's all over the news!"

Jin laughs again, but stops himself quickly. "Yeah. I heard. Sorry I didn't call you earlier, I was kind of... I was busy."

"That's fine," Meisa says, but there's a question in her voice.

"We don't have to worry about that story now. I mean, you and me. Me. You know what I mean."

"Jin, what's going on?"

"Nothing," he says. "Nothing now. That article..." He's too tired to sort through what he can say and what not, but this is Meisa. It'll be okay. "I've been back in touch with Kame, that's how I got on people's radar. But we've… he's… it's safe now. I'll explain later. Tell me about the kids, what have they been up to yesterday? What are you guys doing today?"

He must have sounded a bit desperate, and after a moment, she just tells him. About his kids being clever and whiny and stubborn and funny and great, until there's color back in his head and nothing about people dying.

Then he's ready to go back. Kame's secretary barely nods at him anymore. That happened fast, Jin as part of the inventory. A young guy, a bit too beefy for his suit, steps out of Kame's office and gives Jin a curious look, but Jin nods at him and strolls inside.

Kame's not in. Someone's sitting in his chair anyway. Small, smaller than Kame. The lines on his face so deep they cast their own shadows.

"Johnny-san," Jin says.

Johnny notices him slowly. God, he's ancient. Entirely bald now, got more of those spots. His eyes narrow on Jin. "What do you want?"

"I was looking for..." What is he, in the scheme of things? What does Kame want here? "Kamenashi-kun."

"Well, he's working." Johnny takes a labored breath. The chair turns slowly towards the window but Jin can't see if Johnny is pushing it. "He's busy."

"Yes," Jin says. "I know. I'll wait." Then he gets it together. "My sincere condolences for your loss, sir." He feels like such a fucking hypocrite.

Johnny says nothing to that, just presses his thin lips together. Stares at Jin steadily, so piercing Jin feels it prickle. "Akanishi," he says. Nods to himself. "What are you doing here?"

Didn't they just clear that up?

"Waiting for Kamenashi."

Johnny chuckles. "Of course. Akakame." Stares at Jin again. "You were cuter then."

Doesn't Jin know it. "Can I get you anything, sir?" It's a stupid platitude. But what's Jin going to _say_? "Is there anything you need?"

Johnny breathes slowly again. "Do you work here?" he asks. "Can you bring KITTY-KISS-ME's Miyamoto to my office? I want to talk to him."

"I... I don't know, sir. I'll have to wait for Kame."

"Kamenashi," Johnny says. "He's cute, too. He'll go places. I know those things, you know. I've got an eye for it."

It makes Jin's hairs stand up.

His head whips around when the door opens. He'll take _anybody_ but... it's Kame. Oh, thank you.

"Ah, Kazuya." Johnny's eyes have lit up. "I've been waiting for you. Akanishi's here."

"I know," Kame says smoothly. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting." He gives Jin a passing glance but says nothing.

"Oh, that's all right," Johnny says as Kame moves towards him. "I'm not in such a hurry."

"Did Fujiwara drive you over?" Kame asks, in a light voice so at odds with the crawling uneasiness Jin is feeling.

"Yes," Johnny nods. "One of them drove me, anyway."

"And he brought you to my office?" Kame drops to his haunches in front of Johnny and smiles, fixes Johnny's tie.

"Yes. I was waiting for you." Johnny reaches out and his thin fingers skim Kame's cheek, push back his hair. "And here you are."

"Yes," Kame says, smile unwavering. "That's good, that's perfect."

Johnny nods, seems pleased with that.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"A little bit," Johnny says. His hand sinks down, wrapping around the arm of the chair. Jin's thinking of claws. "I'm not very hungry."

"I understand that," Kame says. "It's a difficult time."

Johnny nods again. "When is the funeral?" His voice is much quieter; broken.

"Wednesday, maybe Thursday," Kame says. He stands, and says, more for Jin, "The police are ready to declare it a suicide."

Good.

"You deal with the press, Kazuya. I don't want to see them."

Kame nods. "I'll do that. And afterwards, we need to think about protecting the company from the confusion caused by this sad loss. Julie was a very strong manager."

"Yes," Johnny says vaguely. "Yes, we'll have to... structure things."

Kame nods. "We will," he says. "Let me worry about that."

Johnny looks around as if he doesn't remember how he got here. It's a sinking feeling when Jin realizes that that may just be the case.

"I have some… work." Johnny waves a hand. "I wish to go to my office for a while."

"Of course," Kame says. "I'll have some tea brought for you there."

"And KITTY-KISS-ME's Miyamoto," Johnny says. "I like him. I want to talk to him. In my office."

Something shadowed and closed flickers over Kame's face. "Of course," he says, smile coming back. "I'll have him sent up as soon as he comes back from filming."

Kame helps Johnny stand. It takes him a moment to find his balance. Then he walks, slowly but without wavering.

"It's you," Johnny says when he's in front of Jin.

"Yes," Jin says. God, his voice. "Akanishi."

"You've changed your hair. I don't think I like it that way, it's not cool. I'll have a word with your manager."

"Sorry," Jin says, and looks down.

"Jin, will you get the door, please?" Kame says, friendly as cupcakes, and Jin starts, shit, of course.

"Sorry," he says again. "Sure." He opens the door and makes room for Johnny and feels shakier than the old man on his old skinny legs.

Johnny stops at the door and puts a wrinkled hand on Jin's arm. "You're a good boy," he says with a smile, and he almost looks like he always did, eternally old, eternally strong. "I like you." Then he shuffles through the door, leaving Jin standing there with a shudder crawling down his back.

"That's what it's like," Kame says evenly. "Go sit down. I'll have someone bring you tea too."

"Are you…" Jin swallows dry. "You're not really going to send…"

The look Kame shoots him makes him flinch. But then Kame's face softens. "The one advantage to the state he's in." He walks up to Jin and turns him, away from staring at the door. "He won't remember he asked."

*~*~*

The day goes on forever. Kame meets with Arashi at some point and Jin finds himself eyed with suspicion again. He sees Junno, too, which is weird, and Ueda, who says he wants to speak to Kame alone. There are long meetings with lawyers. Jin sticks around because Kame wants him there, but he's got nothing to do. He's starting to feel like the office mascot. An increasingly tired one.

By six, he's starting to go cross-eyed. Kame is wearing his third fresh shirt of the day, after having somebody stop at Matsuya with instructions. Jin got a new one too, and it actually made him feel half-alive again for half an hour. That was around three.

The grey of the office is merging with the grey in Jin's brain and the white noise in his ears. He's so used to the phone ringing that it doesn't even give him an adrenaline jolt any more. Kame's voice is deep and quiet and the couch is a familiar smell now...

"Jin."

"Hm?" He blinks up.

"I said that's it. We're finished for today. We're going home."

"Okay," Jin says, sitting up. His neck hurts. His eyes hurt. "Where are we going?"

"Car park." Kame has his suit jacket back on and is carrying a briefcase. Jin thinks he looks old, but then the thought of going home overpowers everything.

"Right."

He follows Kame, close. He could get lost in here, this new building. Lost and then he'd starve. Or drown in coffee. But Kame will know where he's going.

"Your seatbelt," Kame says when Jin's sitting in the car, and yeah. Seatbelts. Important. Like brushing your teeth.

It's easy when he can just do as Kame says. The car comes on smoothly, like a warm hug.

"You okay?" Kame asks as they pull up the ramp, and it reminds Jin that Kame's been awake for two days straight, too, and he hasn't been napping on any sofas, and now he's driving.

"Fine," he says. "Just sleepy." They drive past the camped-out paparazzi and all he can think is that they probably got to take it in shifts.

"So sleep," Kame says.

"I think I should keep you entertained while I'm here," Jin says. "You're tired too."

"And I say you should sleep," Kame says. "I'm fine. I drive all the time."

Not after this, Jin thinks. But Kame says he should sleep. It's enough, pulling at him like the smooth flow of the car, the weight on his eyelids.

Just a little. Just until he's home.

"Jin. Wake up, we're here."

It's dark. Really dark. Except for a bright light on the concrete wall a few meters away. Another car park.

"Did you drive back?" Jin shakes his head and tries to clear the fog. "Where are we?"

"My apartment building." Kame opens the door and there's a draft of air. "Come on."

Jin doesn't argue. Doesn't even ask. There'll be an apartment and a bed and no idols or press or endlessly ringing phones, and that's all he needs.

Kame inputs some long number into a keypad and the first door slides open. There's a lobby with shiny marble and two elevators at the end. They are swept to the seventh floor, noiseless and fast, and then it's a short corridor and another door with another keypad, and then a smell of cold smoke and cool air, and a carpet so soft that Jin wants to lie down on it and sleep. Kame's apartment.

A subtle light comes on. "Here we are," Kame says. "You can have the couch. I've got blankets."

The couch is roughly as big as Jin's apartment. "Okay." He sits down on it and it gives cozily and he doesn't know if he'll ever get up again.

"Are you hungry? Do you need anything else?"

"I don't know," Jin says. Kame's apartment is large, with daunting furniture, expanding chrome and white and black. There's a few modern paintings and some dark artsy sculptures, and not much else. If Kame possesses books or CDs they are behind cupboard doors. The only indication that somebody lives here is a notebook on the dining table, and an ashtray with two stubbed-out cigarettes next to it. Oh, and a pen. Let's not forget the pen, Jin thinks. "Do you even have food in here?" he can't help asking.

"I have a housekeeper," Kame says. Of course he would.

It's an open, American-style kitchen. Nice if you have the space. Black tiles and steel panels. Kame's rattling around, and Jin makes a half-assed effort to stand up. "Should I do anything?"

"No," Kame says. No. Fits.

Jin takes a deep breath, waits. Tries to see Kame in this apartment. Slick and cold, is that what Kame is trying to be? One of the sculptures is a man's outline. Half a body pushing out of black granite, a katana in his hand. It's dark and sensual and proud.

Kame's in front of him so suddenly that Jin jerks. There's a plate with a fork and steaming little pancake. It smells of butter and maple syrup. "You just made a pancake?"

"It was frozen," Kame says. "I stuck it in the toaster. Don't get it on the couch."

Kame knows just what is perfect. Jin doesn't ask any more questions, just gobbles up this piece of sugary heaven while Kame lights a cigarette and pulls up a chair.

"I'll drive you home tomorrow," he says. "You'd be bored at the company and I have to do a few things. It'll take a few days to sort out your contract. But I'll call you."

Back in the box, waiting. Stuck in pause.

"Don't argue with me."

He doesn't. Kame's known what's needed all this time. He licks up the maple syrup from the fork. Mops up the last drops of butter with the last crumbs of pancake. The sugar didn't wake him up, just made him content and even sleepier.

Kame brings him a pillow and duvet, spreads a sheet on the couch. It feels silky and cool and entirely perfect. He gets a toothbrush, fresh boxers, and a washed-out Giants t-shirt which is reassuring in a way he never expected it to be.

Kame is still dressed, with the start of stubble on his face and his eyes so small they're disappearing.

"Thank you," Jin says, not sure for what, but it feels right to say.

"Go to sleep," Kame says, the duvet coming up to Jin's chin, cool fingers in his hair, and Jin figures he's been doing as told for the last two days, he's not going to stop now.

~

_to be continued_


	13. Interlude: Week 9 - 9½ (Drabbles½)

## Week 9 - 9½

### Sunday

He sleeps a lot on Sunday. He dreams of police lights and grey breathless fog. When he's awake, he has the news on low and a restless itch under his skin. He wants Kame's hands, soft and cigarettes and all, to smooth it away, and knows Kame wouldn't have time to even stand still.

He keeps the curtains half-closed, the phone within reach, and sometimes he starts at his own shadow. The idea that the worst is over is still new.

He speaks to his kids, annoys Sara by getting sappy and tongue-tied in the middle of her story about flopsybunny's ride in the washing machine.

"I'll have HR draw up your contract tomorrow," Kame says the fourth time he calls, every word stiff, filtered through lawyers and sharks.

The sixth time it's, "We've chosen a funeral home."

Jin thinks about ghosts and haunting and sleeps with the light on.

 

### Monday

He parks the car, mindful of its size and shiny edges. He was embarrassed when Koto-san in the box buzzed him through, making an impressed face.

His manager is in today. Former manager. They spoke on the phone, but Jin still had the uniform.

He bows deeply when he hands it back. "I really appreciated this opportunity," he says, and means it. Maybe he's the only person who ever felt this way about stepping out of a dead-end night watch job. "I'm so sorry I didn't give you more notice."

"Ah, don't worry," his mananger waves. "We've got applications. And Takeshi-kun was happy to take double shifts last weekend. His mom's operation, you know."

He knows. He knows about their moms and kids and dogs; what teams they support and how they take their coffee.

He'll miss them.

Then he gets a keyring with the company logo as a souvenir.

### Tuesday

The building is so new. Jin feels like a thief sneaking around, learning the corridors, learning to ignore the stares.

New building and all around shine, yet they still tape the names of the groups to the doors with sticky tape. He blinks at it with a twisting sense of familiarity.

"You here to submit an application?"

He flinches like a thief too. Ueda, jeans, blue contacts; an expression that says Jin's application wouldn't get him very far.

"I came in to sign stuff," he says; shrugs. "But he's busy."

Ueda looks Jin over, slowly, twice. "I stayed out of your shit," he says calmly. "I stayed out of his shit. Don't bring it to our door now just because he's decided he needs a lapdog. Got it?"

"Loud and clear," Jin says, and Ueda steps past him, into the KAT-TUN dressing room, the door falling shut in Jin's face.

 

### Wednesday

Jin goes in last.

A measured walk down the aisle, towards the mountain of flowers. It's enormous. Anyone who's anything in the business sent something, rivalries played out in bouquet sizes. Jin's head is dizzy, sweet scents and candles and beautiful music. He bows, counts out the seconds, and tries not to feel anything.

She looks happy on the picture, smiling. Now she's gone.

Outside in the large hall, it's a press of dark suits and bright idol hair, and more flowers. Hushed voices. Jin's silence fits in, is safe and appropriate. He nods at Kame in passing, and Kame nods back from across the room. Beside him, Johnny is leaning heavily on his stick and occasionally sniffing at the orchid in his buttonhole.

Jin went in last and alone. They thought it was fitting for a lost sheep. The reporters have seen him anyway, and the whispers are everywhere.

 

### Thursday

Nakamaru is turning his teacup, slowly. Shaking his head, slowly. "So, she lied to me from the start. And Kamenashi was willing to get me arrested."

Jin squirms. Damn couch. "Basically, yeah. I thought you deserved to know."

"Well. Thank you."

"And I think you two should…" Jin shrugs. "I mean, you and Kame." He's not sure who should apologize to whom more; not sure they know either.

He remembers the look Nakamaru gives him. The look which says that Jin has a lot to learn and perhaps not enough brain to learn it with, but Nakamaru kind of likes him anyway. A long look down a big nose.

"You'll run into each other at my housewarming at the latest," he states boldly.

"You are moving?"

Jin shrugs. "I have to. I'm looking."

More slow turning of the teacup. "Well," Nakamaru says eventually. "Then I shall look forward to it."

~  
to be continued


	14. Week 9½

## Week 9 1/2

### Friday

"Thank you all for coming."

The lights flash. Kame gives them a moment, lets them get a good look. He's clear-eyed, clean-shaven, respecting the mournful occasion with quiet dignity. But all eyes are on him, and he stands there like they're meant to be, they couldn't possibly be on anything else.

"This has been a difficult time for all of us. This tragic loss took all of us by surprise, and we will feel it keenly in the months to come as we move forward." He's not nervous, not even for a second. The cameras must catch it, love it, confidence just oozing from the screens. A comfort, to anyone who actually cares.

"We will never understand the full circumstances behind Julie Fujishima's tragic decision," he says, holding on to the edges of the podium. It's sombre, with a hint of bravely contained grief. "But we know she had great plans for the company and for all of us. She saw that we haven't lived up to our potential, musically and artistically, and that selling a record is not the same as believing in a record."

Probably as close as Kame's going to come to saying their musical output's been shit, and has come third to infighting and scandalmongering for years. Oh, and to the Koreans. Jin's biting his lip; catches himself and stops. No nervousness. Kame's up there, demanding as much.

"She would want us all to do better," Kame says, hanging his head with a touch of shame. "Julie thought of Johnny & Associates as a family. And we found out in the last few days that it was her dearest wish to welcome back one of our own. To repair a bond in our family that should never have been broken."

He's shameless. Shameless and perfect and Jin would be scared of him, maybe he _should_ be scared of him. Maybe he even is, deep down where his insides are twisting and curling.

"It is therefore my pleasure, at this sad time for all of us, to be able to honor her wishes, and appoint Akanishi Jin as our new creative director for music."

The murmur that goes through the press travels everywhere, TV microphones and the podium, where Kame stands up straighter. Gestures generously.

The adrenaline hits Jin like a fist to the stomach, and he doesn't know if he wants to puke or go to the toilet or down half a bottle of sake.

But then Kame's eyes find him, hold him in place as Kame steps towards him, clearing the path to the mic. They shake hands in passing, Kame's grip strong like he's learned how to do this too. The cameras flash. Kame holds on longer. "You know what to do," he says, low enough no one will hear though they'll all see them speaking, and touching forever.

Yeah, Jin knows. Kame's told him.

And it moves him, step by step, and suddenly he's behind the mic with his sweating hands and his careful hair and his respectful suit.

He takes a deep, deep bow.

"A few of you know me," he says when he straightens up again. "It's been a while." That get him laughs, though knowing and not totally friendly ones. It doesn't matter. Just doesn't matter. "You know me as the guy who hated you all. Right?" He's standing tall now, this is nothing but truth. He's got to own up to it. "The guy who thought he could do whatever he liked." The skewed smile comes easy. "That's the kind of guy I was, then. But I brought myself down with that, and you know what, ten years… you get a lot of thinking done in ten years. A lot of growing up."

And it doesn't matter where the thinking led him. Here on stage, now, he's simply what he needs to be. What Kame needs him to be.

"I let the company down. I was selfish and stubborn and people called me an idiot. And that's just my friends." It's like water, washing over him and sliding off, and it gets him another laugh. "As the old Akanishi Jin, I let down my co-workers, and I disappointed my fans." He's tingling, and the ground's falling away and he isn't falling with it. This thing he could never do, it's _easy_.

"It's different now," he says. "I have two kids now, and I love them. I want them to be proud of me. This is a second chance for me, and I will work as hard as I can. And this time I'd like to do it with humility." There are titters, but they knew that. He didn't know he wouldn't care, and it feels… free. And there are also people looking convinced, younger people who didn't know him then, older ones who think he's finally learned. He can be the new, improved Akanishi. For everyone to see. "I want to work with people, not against them. I want to make the best contribution to this company that I can make. No more sudden surprises. No more dancing out of line. What the agency wants," and he shoots a glance at Kame, there's the smile, his reward, full of trust and confidence, "that's what I want too. I don't want to rock that boat. We all want to get back to where we were the best."

Flashlights, so bright, he forgot and he missed them the first time round because he was bowing. He makes himself stand and smile sincerely until they're done.

"I would like to apologize," he says then. "To those of you who still remember the old me, whom I hurt and whose jobs I made harder. I thought I was right then, I thought you were my enemies. All I can say now is please, believe me, I have grown up. I ask for your guidance."

He bows again, a long time, everyone staring, all eyes and all cameras. And it's fine.

He steps back from the podium, smiling, demure. Polite. Answers the questions they have until Kame simply takes him away, and nobody argues.

The door shuts on the press room, like a sudden hush. It's over, and it was so easy. There's an itch racing round Jin's skin.

"That was good work," Kame says, guiding him by the elbow. It's like a caress.

"Thank you." His steps are light. Once again he's not sure where they're going.

"See how well things go when you're a good boy?" Kame asks, in a way that doesn't expect an answer.

So he gives none. Just thinks, how easy it was when he didn't fight it. He's taut like a string everyone got to play to their pleasure today, and there's a low resounding ring in every step he takes. He's learned. Akanishi Jin, old and new. And this can be easy.

Kame's office is still bland and grey, blinds drawn against any ray of sunshine that might want to gate-crash the mausoleum party. Enough now.

"I want to go home," Jin says when the door's barely closed behind them. "I've been a good boy and I've rolled over and I've licked all my boots, and I want to go home now."

Kame pauses in motion. "Skipping out on work already? I thought we might have some business to discuss."

"Not skipping." He picks up his jacket and Kame's jacket from next to each other on the clothes stand. "We're just done here for today."

Kame won't admit that Jin's right. But he takes the jacket; makes two more brief calls and Jin lets him. It's not worth the hassle. The view makes up for the delay, Kame behind his wide grey desk in his dead grey office, _the_ office now, standing there like he's the one pulse of life and color, and power.

He lets Kame lead even to the elevator, that's easy too. Jin likes easy, wants more of it.

How did it take him so long to learn how much easier it is to let it roll off your back, not care, give in. Thank you. He's sure it was good for them.

"We go to your place," he says when he's in the car, in the leather seat. Quiet.

Kame tries to read him, a brush on his tingling skin. Jin likes it. Kame can look at him all he wants, and never stop. "Fine," Kame says.

He watches Kame's hands and his careful steering. The small shifts as he handles speed and brakes. He knows Kame naked under all that polish and his skin is lonely for him.

The freeway presses him into the seat. Nobody knows where Kame lives. Jin thinks he could find the way by himself now, in his new company car.

"It gets easier," Kame says. "You let them have their way, and in the end it's good for you. In the end you get your own way."

"I'm learning," Jin says.

Kame nods, Kame knows. "I need you to," he says then. "From now, what you do reflects on me."

Jin's aware. He won't forget. Won't slip, Kame won't let him. He works for Kame now.

It spins through his head and makes him dizzy. They turn off the freeway and there's a kick in the turn; an edge to Kame's driving, and maybe he's earning himself a speeding ticket, the first one that won't, can't hurt him.

Jin breathes in deep and long, sees Kame's apartment building come up. High and imposing, state of the art security. It's his untouchable refuge, from people, from everything.

The car slips smoothly down into the parking garage and the gates close on the afternoon light. It's so early, for Kame. Even on a Friday evening.

They go through the code-secured door, up the code-secured elevator. Jin doesn't have those codes. He just follows.

In Kame's apartment the light is back, on icy white, gleaming chrome, obsidian sculptures. Jin takes his jacket off and drops it, lets Kame lock up. He doesn't interfere with the important stuff.

Kame shrugs out of his suit jacket, white stiff shirt moving on his shoulders, his eyes skimming the place, skimming Jin. His thoughts are full of plans, full of complications. He's the hottest thing Jin's ever seen.

The small bar is dark and chrome and mirrors, a riot of color only when Kame folds the front down. "What do you want?" he says, turning halfway when Jin steps up from the genkan on his socks, steps closer.

Jin reaches out. "I want you." And Kame doesn't resist, when Jin pulls him sideways and there's the wall. By the time he tenses, Jin's got him spun around.

"What the—"

"I want you," Jin says. Waits for it to sink in.

Kame pushes back, but Jin leans against him hard, all the heaviness he's got. "I don't do that," Kame says, his cheek brushing the wall when Jin presses his mouth behind his ear.

Jin licks him. "Adapt."

Kame fights him, pushing and squirming, and Jin pushes back and holds him trapped, and he never thought it would feel like this, it could be such a charge. They freeze again when he's holding one of Kame's wrists on his stomach, the other rough against the wall above them. He's stronger, still stronger.

Kame's sweating. Jin can hear him breathe.

"Give it up," he says, and Kame fucking _shivers_. "Your turn now."

It happens slowly. Kame's tension fades; protection crumbling. Jin's stomach twists with a strange sort of fire when Kame's hand slips from his grip, sinks to his trousers.

Jin's so hard he could fuck Kame through the suit.

Kame's hand is fumbling, undoing the belt, the button, and his hair flutters with how sharply Jin breathes out. Kame's pushing his own trousers over his ass, to drop soft to the floor and Jin's flying, he's... He presses into him again, reaches around, has Kame hot in his hand while he gets the underpants down the rest of the way, Kame giving a moan; Kame naked, waiting for him. It feels so right, and Jin bites down on his lip, it's almost too much.

He gets his own belt, zip, and then they're skin on skin, Jin pressing even closer, nudging, demanding. "I spread my legs for you and all of them out there. Now you can spread yours just for me."

Kame coils with strain, shudders. "Don't get used to it," he mumbles, but gives when Jin nudges his feet further apart and gets him lower, pulls him in. His ass is hot against Jin's cock, and Jin humps along the crack before he even knows he's doing it and it's so, so good.

"Keep it there," Jin gets out, pressing Kame's hand against the wall, high above. "You think you can always tell everyone what to do, you just walk around cold and prickly like nobody can touch you." Kame jerks in response and Jin cups his ass and Kame yields further, grinds against him, and Jin feels his own strength like a living, burning thing under his skin. Is this how Kame feels all the time?

He puts his open mouth on Kame's neck and Kame makes a little noise. He's ready. Ready and ripe.

Jin thinks with his brain for one moment, he's been learning. "You got anything?"

Anything at all. He can _feel_ Kame think. "Lip balm," Kame says. His eyes are open and hot and unseeing. "Pocket, left."

Jin fumbles in Kame's Armani suit jacket. There it is. And he's hard along Kame's back again, and Kame was a good boy and stood still and shaking, ready as can be, and there's a whiff of strawberries as Jin empties the tube into his hand.

"It's not much," he says, spreading it on his cock anyway, cool creamy slickness that takes the edge off for a moment.

"It'll do," Kame pants. His lip balm, he'll know. Kame, superboss, and Jin's holding him there, Jin's going to fuck him.

Right now.

He doesn't take time to wonder, that moment when he fumbles between Kame's cheeks and knows this is new, because it's not a science, you don't _study_ this and Jin _needs_ it, and then he _really_ bites his lip when he pushes against Kame, and Kame's body lets him in.

They fit. Even this way. They're a fit and one and home and Jin's going out of his mind with the heat and the pressure and this _need_ , his dick barely remembering being inside somebody.

He rocks his hips, presses in tighter.

"Oh god oh fuck," Kame says, just breath and hiss. Jin braces himself on the wall and holds Kame around the waist, his hips knowing the way, short little jerks that let Kame know he's there.

Kame lets out a tight whimper but it doesn't sound like stop, it sounds like go, yes, more, he's taking, giving back. Kame's neck is bowed, tendons hard, his hair's a messy curtain, getting sweatier by the second, and Jin goes long, deep.

Maybe it's catching, Kame's control. Jin could keep fucking him forever, however long Kame's going to take it. "You're tight for someone who needs it so bad," he says, and he knows why, Kame doesn't do this, because Kame's never known what's good for him either. Jin's hand slides, sticky with strawberry on Kame's icy white wall, and he wraps his arm around Kame's chest. Kame melts into it, _god_ yes, tighter, deeper. When's the last time Kame ever handed himself over like that?

It spreads over him like a whisper, that he wants more of this, more to see, Kame shutting up, giving up. Kame's neck red from Jin's teeth. Strawberries.

"Anyone ever fucked you in your bed?" he murmurs, so close he feels the twitch in Kame, on his cock and against his mouth. When Kame won't answer he tightens his arm, brings his hand up under Kame's chin, demanding.

"No," Kame gasps, and his eyes are burning. "Never here."

"About time then," Jin decides, taking Kame up on his toes with a hard thrust. Kame's fists are clenching on the wall, right underneath Jin's hand print.

Jin slows down to a tease, never letting go, until he's still. He pulls back, all the way, steps back. A little slip, all the lovely tight heat gone. Kame's flushed a patchy red, chest heaving as he turns his head. Clinging to the wall.

"Let's go," Jin says.

Kame stares at him with his mouth half-open, a stare with a million thoughts.

Jin nods. "Go."

Kame goes. Jin's cock feels heavy, swaying and pointing, and he's not embarrassed by it either. He imagines how Kame feels, walking with the lube and the stretch, preparing to get some more. Jin's so ready.

They're in the bedroom, stylish and cold. Kame's bed is too wide for just him, it's ridiculous and lonely and Jin catches up with Kame's naked ass before he gets on it.

"I want to look at you," he says. "I want to see all of you." He spins Kame around and puts a hand on Kame's cock, it's his _right_. "That works, yes?" He's never done this but Kame will know.

"Yeah," Kame says, licking his lips. "If we... it works. It'll work."

Jin pushes him back.

Kame is hard, too, and Jin kneels between his legs and grasps him and makes him harder. He could get used to this, Kame squirming on his back, heels digging into the mattress, impatience in his hips but a daze over his eyes. Taking it. "How?" Jin asks, when he wants more again than just look.

The rest happens wordlessly, small movements from Kame telling Jin what and where, and how to get him opened up again. Jin watches Kame's face when he slips back inside, Kame biting his lip, closing his eyes, and sighing along with Jin once they're joined all the way.

Beautiful.

Kame's thighs are pressing on Jin's arms, it's different from what he knows, the angles, so tight, Jin needs a moment. But he finds it, can rock Kame open wider, deeper with every thrust. Kame's hard-on has softened but it's still there, responding to his hand, he's not the best at this but he's good enough, Kame's gasping and straining and letting him in, all over, everywhere. Good enough.

He bends Kame more, uses his weight to slump down and crush their mouths together. No skill, just heat, taking possession. Kame's his now, he's earned him. Kame's hands grab at his head, sweaty fingers that keep him there, tender and messy and stinging where the hair clings, Kame opening up for his tongue, too.

Kissing is still new, beginners, they did it all in a weird, weird way, their own way, but it works. He knows the sounds Kame is making even when it's Jin flexing and thrusting, over and over. It's still familiar, it feels right. He tries to take it slow, make it last, give Kame time to feel him and get used to him inside, he remembers that takes a moment, takes touch and closeness. They find a rhythm, a trance almost if Jin wasn't so hungry, Kame's skin under his hands and tight around him, Kame's lips pressed against his.

" _Jin._ "

Yes. He finds that strength again and fucks Kame like a long, drawn-out promise. The best ones, hot with spit and blood and he knows Kame loves it, too.

And then he's there, and ready, it sweeps over him from his toes to the roots of his hair and he can't stop, harder and faster and more, and he hears himself moan and then he's coming, inside Kame, and Kame is making fists in his hair and it lasts forever.

For half a minute he doesn't move, doesn't even think. Kame blinks up at him with clouded eyes, lips swollen from kissing, like he's not sure where he is. His legs are still around him.

He puts his hand back on Kame's cock, and it pulses for him instantly. He's slipping out, rebalancing, but the power's all here now. Kame twisting and shivering, hot and hard, all his, all for Jin.

"I liked that," Jin says, and Kame gives a choked little laugh, bucks into his hand. "I'll do that again sometime." He speeds his hand, picks up the rhythm where he last left it and the high, this glorious high, sinks down over Kame and takes another deep kiss. Kame is urgent, wanting his tongue, his anything, and Jin lets him have it, sweat breaking out all over him again.

He fucked Kame. Kamenashi Kazuya, bane of TV stations, protector of idols, corporate overlord. Jin's new boss.

"Some day," he whispers against Kame's lips, "I'll fuck you in your office."

Kame makes a choked noise.

"Right there in your stupid boring office. Maybe I'll bend you over that desk. Maybe I'll sit in that bossy chair of yours and let you suck me off."

Would do him good, too. Kame is thrusting now, panting, biting back moans.

"Tell me I can," Jin says dreamily, easing up just that much, he can tease too.

Kame grabs at his hand, and it's a moment, a moment where he's fighting. But it passes, Kame holding his eyes, "yes," just a gasp, thrusting harder, urging Jin, and Jin's spine tingles, a new wave of heat going through him, dizzying. He rolls with it, lets it wash through him, concentrates on Kame who can't get enough air and enough anything, hot and red and glistening and beautiful. Who freezes and is faster than Jin's hand, semen hitting Jin's chest and Jin's arm before Jin can catch the rest. Never mind, Jin thinks, never mind.

Kame heaves with a deep, desperate breath. He doesn't take his eyes off Jin. Sweaty, sticky mess. Perfect together, any way they are.

"I should move in with you," Jin says.

Kame gasps; laughs. Something in between. Jin slumps down beside him, just wants to curl up in Kame's boiling body heat.

Kame's breathing still hitches when Jin touches him. So light, and yet Jin can do that. And Kame lets him.

He can fuck Kame and pet Kame. Who'd have thought. A whole new skill set. Task set. He watches Kame come down, breath by breath, and thinks this bed is a much better place already.

"Do you want a beer?" Kame asks after a while. "Or something more demanding, now you're on a roll?"

Jin gives that some thought. "I think a beer will do for now. Thanks."

He lets Kame go, watches his ass and his back, _he fucked Kame_ and it's still buzzing around his body like the best sort of booze. He's not even sure he needs the beer but when Kame is there he takes it off him anyway.

Kame sits on the bed with his beer, upright, sipping carefully. He looks around, walls and door and windows. The sheets are a dark grey satin, their skin the only color in the room.

"Were you serious?"

Jin's been nothing but serious; serious is rippling out under his skin. "Yes." It's easy, too. He's just seen the obvious a bit earlier than Kame, who's distracted from letting Jin fuck his ass, in his bed, and needs to be cut some slack. "I need a new place. You've got a spare room. I should move in."

Kame's time to think. "You won't just get your way all the time," he warns. Jin doesn't even know if that's more paranoid and dumb or paranoid and sweet. But, slack, he was gonna cut it. He rolls up and presses Kame against the headboard, and kisses him, because he's bigger and stronger and he can.

"You fuck me, and you pay my rent," he points out. "Let's cut out the middleman. Save you the drive, too."

Then he waits for Kame to decide that this is a sound business proposal while brushing his mouth along Kame's jaw.

Kame breathes out carefully. "And I'd just sorted things out with your building manager..."

"Yeah." Jin stops with an unwelcome memory of coming across a Yamada-san he'd never met before on Wednesday morning. "Do I even want to ask what you did to the old one?" He's pretty sure the guy's not dead. Pretty sure.

Kame rolls his eyes. "I offered him a better job at one of our facilities. Made him sign clauses and all that. And the file about your rent history got accidentally deleted."

Yes, that's what Jin had figured. Mostly.

"We could ride into work together," Kame says, looking at Jin and then past him. "I guess that would make sense. And I could make sure you show up on time."

Sure, that. Definitely that. "See," Jin says.

Kame sits still, and now he gets it, Jin thinks, he sees it all. Keeping Jin in line. Being the boss. No loose ends flapping about Tokyo. All the good little reasons he can line up like barricades, and the real one, that Jin belongs here; that they'll never walk away from each other again.

The next kiss is Kame's, and it's hard enough to bruise. "I'll be keeping an eye on you," he murmurs. But it's more than an eye when he pulls back, it's a whole hungry glance, and Jin feels a new flush crawling over him.

So that's settled. He wonders what it'll be like, having Kame for a boss. Jin's not so good with bosses. But he's never lived with one of them before, either.

Kame stretches for the nightstand and before Jin knows it he's got a cigarette between his lips and lights it with a flick of his thumb.

Jin wrinkles his nose. "That is disgusting, you know that?" he says. "In _bed_."

Kame gives him an arch look, but blows the smoke to the side. "You picked it," he says. "Didn't you?"

Yeah, he did. Way to seal the deal. Jin leans out of the way of the smoke and has another sip of beer. "I had a coffee with Ueda this morning," he remembers. "Well, he had a coffee and I had one and it was the same machine and we exchanged more than ten words. None of them being 'asshole', for that matter."

Kame's mouth twitches around the cigarette. "That's very sweet."

"He doesn't know what to make of the 'director' part," Jin says. "I mean, yeah, it's kind of weird after all that time."

"He'll come around," Kame says confidently. "I want you to write songs for us again. We need the fresh blood, they'll all see that. You'll be good for the company." He stares ahead at a future he's sure of, plans he's making. "And you're with me now."

He is. That's the deal. And that this place will stop looking like a crypt, and Kame will learn to sleep, and the kisses will be familiar. "I am," he says.

It almost startles Kame. There's a small smile, hidden behind another drag. "Not what I expected," he says.

Jin looks back at him as sure as anything. "Who else would have you?"

That same sharp flash, the small smile more sneaky; insistent. The cigarette is halfway done. "You and your poor choices," Kame says as he leans to stub it out, moving muscles Jin can't wait to touch again.

"I'll need to pick up all my stuff," he says. Soon. He's looking around and he can't wait for that either.

"So use the car," Kame says. "It's why I got it for you. And I've got an empty drawer somewhere."

"Jerk," Jin says.

"Yes," Kame smirks. "Is this news?"

"I thought getting laid more often would improve your personality."

"You can sing me _all_ your songs." Kame's stare is evil, and it's just as well that his cigarette is gone, because Jin snakes up and folds himself all over him, skin and skin and skin, and his lips at Kame's ear.

"Count on it," he says, "I will."

~

_To follow: Epilogue_


	15. Epilogue

## Epilogue

### Saturday

"And this is where you'll sleep," Jin says as he opens the door and steps aside. Grand tour, the little office finale. He almost holds his breath.

Sara marches in, Akira following. He notices the shelf first, where Jin keeps all the family photos, the kids and his parents and Meisa, and Reio's family. The ones he used to hide from Kame.

"It's my room," Jin explains unnecessarily. "I'll sleep on the guest bed when you're here. The couch folds out." Kame was his usual prepared self and had spare sheets and two separate duvets, stocked up for guests when nobody but Kame has ever slept in this apartment.

Kame and Jin. And now the kids. That's much better already.

"You write music here?" Akira asks, noticing the guitar next to the desk.

"Yes, when I'm not at the agency." The desk has a new computer, real composing software, fantastic speakers.

"Who's the pirate guy?" Sara wants to know.

"He's in a movie I like," Jin says. The wall above the couch has a Pirates of the Carribbean and an ancient _Heroes_ poster that Jin found at the back of his wardrobe. They're not even that important, but he hung them up for the principle of the thing, until there's something better. Everything Jin kept from the apartment is here, and it's still pretty bare. The floor is dark hardwood, the window wide with a fantastic view. Jin moved out all the breakables.

"I haven't put a lot of stuff in here yet," he says. "I wanted to know what you think, too, cause you'll be here on the weekends. I was thinking of getting a rug, but I didn't know which color."

"It's a cool room," Akira says. "It's great."

"I like purple," Sara announces.

Yeah, the flaw in the plan will probably be a shaggy rug in bright purple. Jin expects Akira to groan, but his son just looks at him with a very serious face. "I can put our bags in here," he says.

"Sure," Jin says, "thanks."

Sara bounces her butt on the couch and cranes her head back to get another look at Johnny Depp. Akira drags in the gym bag and old carry-all that hold their overnight things. He sets them very neatly in the corner, and then stands gingerly next to the couch as though waiting for Jin to offer him a seat.

"You know, there aren't any toys here," Sara complains. Jin just catches the little scuffle when Akira bumps into his sister and Sara glares at him.

"We can bring them," Akira says to Jin, then looks at her. "There's space in dad's shelf, look. We can bring stuff. And we can play games without toys, too. Right, dad?" His cheeks are red spots, and he looks like he can't decide who needs more urgent observation, his dad or his sister.

"Of course you can bring stuff," Jin says. "You have to! You're going to stay here _lots_ of times, you totally need stuff for playing here. And I'll make you an account on the computer, so you can use that too."

"I want an account," Sara says, and Jin promises Sara will get her own account, but he's really watching Akira.

_Lots of times_ seems to have registered. Akira ducks his head and no longer seems manic. With nobody to see but his baby girl, Jin gives him a quick hug.

God, he's missed them. Whole _days_ with them.

"Let's go see about the ice cream, okay?" he says before he gets too embarrassing even for Sara.

"It smells funny here," Sara says as they move back into the open space of the apartment, her nose scrunching up. Akira gives a shocked little hiss.

"That'll go away," Jin tells her in a lowered voice. "Someone used to smoke in here."

Kame is behind the kitchen bar, laying out little plates on a tray. Still. He must have rearranged them three times.

"Tour finished?" he asks with a smile. It's not a relaxed smile, and not a shark smile. He came home an hour early from work and bought Italian ice cream for a welcome snack.

"You have a very big apartment, sir," Akira says. "It looks amazing."

"I like the bathroom _best_ ," Sara trumpets. The bathroom has a giant tub with jets, and Sara pretty much called dibs on it for tonight.

"I have strawberry bath bubbles for the tub, if you want to try those," Kame says to her. "You get really a lot with the jets."

The thought of Kame sitting alone in his bathtub in mountains of strawberry bubbles almost makes Jin laugh.

"Do you have kiwi?" Sara says. "I like kiwi."

Jin sees Akira biting his lip.

"I don't have kiwi," Kame admits. He looks sorry. But then he rallies. "I'll see if I can buy some for next time, though."

"Strawberry's okay too," Sara says generously. "It's nice my dad can live here now."

"I think it's nice too," Kame says. It's kind of funny and kind of stressful to see him think so fast. "It's good to have company."

"His apartment before was very small and full of music equipment," Sara goes on. "So we couldn't visit."

"Ice cream," Jin says, shooing them all. "It's melting." Or maybe that's just Jin feeling sweaty.

They sit around the top of Kame's huge-ass dining table, and it's so strange and new and... different. Jin takes the first spoon and realizes he has absolutely no appetite. Kame is trying half a spoonful of a chocolate type thing and they look at each other, and Jin doesn't know if Kame's vigilance makes him more nervous or less.

Sara has no appetite problem. She picked Suede Cherry and Italian Praline – this is what happens when you let Kame buy your ice cream, Jin figures – and is making good progress.

"My dad got me a duck for my birthday," she says. "It was all made of ice cream, it was huge."

Kame flushes red like a stop sign.

"It had over fifteen flavors, _and_ eggs."

"Wow," Kame manages. He sounds a bit strangled. "That's amazing."

"Yumi ate two whole eggs and was sick on the way home," Sara says, with an unholy gleam in her eye.

"Don't talk about people being sick while other people are eating," Akira admonishes her, but she waves him off with her spoon.

"You're just annoyed because there was no melon flavor left for Park-kun."

Jin's not sure what that has to do with anything, but it doesn't matter because his son has completely frozen and is staring at the floor. Sara's spoon had been full of Italian Praline, which is now a big fat blob on the carpet.

"Whoops," Jin says.

"Don't worry about it," Kame says, and gets a washcloth from the kitchen.

Sara makes a contrite face, swearing she didn't mean it. The blob hit her knee on the way down and left a trail on her too.

Kame's already back, mopping up chocolate goo. "It washes off, see?" That's the first real smile on him today. "I knew someone once who dropped stuff on the floor. Though he didn't admit it."

"That wasn't ice cream," Jin says, cleaning the kid while Kame is cleaning the floor. "And it wasn't _me_." He notices that his son is sitting there like he's about to burst into tears, so he lets Sara help Kame carry the dishes away, and takes him aside.

"You know, you don't need to be so nervous," he says. A bit rich coming from him, but the point stands.

Akira is looking up at him half stubborn, half scared, his mouth pressed tight together.

"It was just a bit of ice cream," Jin says gently.

"But he's your boss," Akira blurts out. "And this is his apartment. We should make a good impression, not—" He gestures at the wet patch on the floor, and his eyes are wet too.

Oh, damn. Jin drops to his knees, and this time Akira hugs him back hard.

"I just don't want him to say we can't come visit you again," Akira says very quietly.

"He would never say that," Jin says, and then he just holds on for a bit, until Akira seems less rigid.

"Kame's my friend," he says, "we've been friends for longer than you've been _alive_. So yeah, he's my boss, but we're more like roommates. Would you kick Park-kun out for spilling some ice cream on your floor?"

"No," Akira concedes grudgingly.

"And I spill stuff _all_ the time, I'll probably make a bigger mess here than your sister. He'll just have to live with that."

Akira rolls his eyes like that's a stupid argument, but at least he's blinked the tears away.

"He was almost more nervous about meeting _you_ ," Jin says, wondering for a flash if that's a breach of some confidence, but, well, it's the truth.

Akira frowns. "Why?"

"Because he wants to be friends with you, too. He wants you to like being here."

He watches his son mull that over. Slowly, carefully. "Okay," Akira says in the end. He still doesn't sound entirely convinced, but at least like he might be seeing where Jin's coming from. "He seems nice enough," he concedes. "And it's a pretty cool apartment."

Jin can't help grinning. "I'm very pleased to hear that." He takes Akira's hand, and Akira doesn't even pull it back. "Shall we go see what Sara has done to him while we were gone?"

*~*~*

Amazingly, Sara has done nothing outrageous to Jin's new boss at all. She is sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, and listening spellbound while Kame says, "And then your dad left the hose lying around and when we came back, all the plants—"

"Hey!" Jin shouts. "That's unfair!"

"—were drowned," Kame finishes. "Oh, hi."

"Kame is telling me about the roof garden, dad." Sara waves at him. "When you were little. It was like me and mom's cactus."

Jin raises his eyebrows at Kame. "Kame, huh?"

Kame's eyes crinkle at him. "We reached an agreement. I'm allowed to call her Sara-chan instead of young Miss Akanishi."

"I like turtles!" Sara announces. Or maybe she's saying she likes Kame.

"If we're going to be friends, that's just more practical," Kame says, and he smiles at Akira. "What do you think? Would that work for you too?"

Akira gives that some quick, smart thinking. "Yeah," he says, leaning a little towards Jin. "Okay." Then he grins and bites his lip.

Jin wonders how long Akira is going to not use Kame's name at all, but then Akira proves him an idiot, because of course Akira's brave.

"Kame," he says, sounding like he's holding his breath. "My dad says you have a 4D TV. Could you show it to us maybe sometime? When you have time."

Kame nods; it takes all of their years with each other for Jin to see the relief. "I have time right now," he says, but looks at Jin. "Should we?"

"Let's," Jin decides.

*~*~*

"You don't want to watch anything that smells _too_ bad," Kame warns, scrolling through the list of movies for under 10s.

Sara giggles. "Like with dog poop."

"Ew," Akira says, but sounds intrigued nontheless.

"Yes. But adventure movies are good."

The 4D TV is an elaborate contraption that adds smoke, certain smells and vibrations in the couch to the TV experience. It's weird to see all that and wonder why Kame ever bothered; Jin just can't see him sitting down to ever watch a whole movie and smell rainforests and fly on spaceships.

He wonders if even Kame didn't always plan to be alone, or if he went for state of the art just because.

They stream Rin and the Ninja Camels, just out a day ago. Jin, Sara and Akira get the couch, and at the first shake Sara squeaks and dumps herself on Jin's lap.

The movie is dumb and brilliant, with a camel ride through the desert that makes even Jin laugh. The kids love it. Then there is strange fog and wet smells in an underground cave, but it doesn't get too creepy; a benefit of watching movies suitable for his daughter.

Kame in the motionless armchair sends the occasional glance towards them, like he's not sure how one relaxes with a movie anymore. Once, he goes to the toilet, and Jin suspects he needs to check some work e-mails too, but then he comes back and patiently sits through the big desert fight and a victory feast whose smells make Jin hungry.

"That was cool," Akira grins when the credits roll. He gives Kame a more respectful smile. "Thank you for letting us try it. Your TV is really cool."

Kame nods, though he looks surprised. "It's no problem," he says. "I hadn't really tried it properly myself, so..."

Akira makes big eyes. "You haven't?"

"I want to be a ninja too," Sara declares.

"I've been very busy recently," Kame says, and Jin hopes he's the only one who can see the faint shadow passing through his eyes. "And I haven't had it long."

"Oh," says Akira, "I understand," like it makes total sense to buy a top-of-the-line TV you're too busy to ever watch.

"Can I learn to be a ninja, dad?"

"I don't know, Princess," Jin says. "I'm not sure we can find a camel to teach you."

"You have to be quiet to be a ninja," Akira grins. "Stealthy."

"I can be stealthy." She hops off the couch and stealth-marches once around it in a way that reminds Jin of a ballet-dancing giraffe. Akira starts laughing and Sara sulks for half a minute, until Akira gets in on it and they stalk each other once around the living room. Jin hopes nobody makes him be camel-sensei.

Kame watches the whole thing with a zoo-like fascination. "Would it be time for dinner?" he asks Jin after a while, quietly. "I don't know when they would..."

Jin checks. Akira nods reluctantly. "Yes," Jin says.

Mid-stealth, Sara stops dead. "I still want my bath," she says. "I want to try the jets and the bubbles."

"Well, how about you do that now and in about half an hour we'll have dinner?"

"I want a bath with you," Sara says, pushing her lip out.

Jin gives Kame and Akira an uncertain glance. Kame and Akira look at each other. From the outside they are probably hilarious. "I don't know, Princess, we have to get dinner." And not leave Akira and Kame stranded and taking turns terrifying each other.

"But I want!" Sara says.

"I could..." Kame offers, but becomes uncertain.

"Yeah, you go, it's cool," Akira says, and turns to Kame. "Do you think I could watch more on your TV?"

"Of course," Kame says. "Just tell me what we want. I thought we'd order something nice. I know a service that does great sushi or a pizza place with a big selection."

"Pizza," Akira says. "Definitely."

"Pizza," Sara says, dragging at Jin's hand.

Jin half shrugs, half grins. "What did you expect," he says, and then he leaves Akira and Kame in the living room to see to food and camels while he has a bath with his daughter. And bubbles and jets.

*~*~*

Jin's missed this so much. Through the crack in the door he can just hear the TV, Akira out there, Sara in the tub with him, wriggling around to get tickled by the jet streams while the bubbles grow.

He could watch her forever, splashing her feet and building crowns of foam on her head.

Kame's getting them dinner, dealing with work. Jin sinks into the water to his neck, bubbles crackling by his ears. They don't have perfection, but he never thought he'd get this close again.

When they reappear, Akira is bouncing along to a jeep ride among lions and ignoring everything. Kame glances across at them, and Jin sees the heat in his eyes when he takes in Jin in sweatpants and with the tips of his hair damp; sees how it fades when he looks at Sara in her purple ballerina pyjamas next to him. But Kame is smiling, looking relaxed at last.

"Akira set the table," he says. "Pizzas should be here any minute." They're at the big table again, with fine china and huge silver cutlery. Sara's pyjamas are just right for brightening up the place.

*~*~*

Jin sneaks out when Akira is well and truly under, curled up on his side with a hand on his face. Sara won the who-sleeps-first game and is spread out over half the bed, the sweet-smelling flopsy-bunny still dangling from her arm.

The apartment is quiet, all the white a dark grey, no lights on. The red stand-by signs from stereo and television are like squinty eyes at the far wall.

Kame's on the balcony. Jin slides the door shut behind him, stepping into the warm night. "Calm after the storm?" he says.

Kame exhales smoke and taps off his cigarette. "I guess," he says. "Is everything okay? You were in there a long time."

"Yes, they're fine. Great, actually." He just missed watching them fall asleep. "Just, first night in a new place. And it's been a while since I could… you know."

Kame nods. "Yeah."

Jin leans on the railing, looks out into the mature trees opposite. Wonders if there are bats there.

"Thank you," he says. "You were great."

Kame gives a dismissive handwave. "They're nice kids."

"I think they like you," Jin says.

Kame slowly exhales more smoke than Jin thought anybody's lungs could hold.

"That's good," he says, nodding to himself. "Very good."

"I'm afraid Sara can be a bit of a pest," Jin says, mostly to give Kame a prompt, a clue that talking freely is allowed here.

More nodding from Kame, and then a wicked sideways smile. "She reminds me of someone I used to know. An enchanting and entitled little baka princess."

It takes Jin a moment. "Prince," he protests. "If you need further proof of my—" He breaks off, because, wait. "Enchanting?"

"She's sweet," Kame says. "She makes it easy."

"No, I mean, _me_?"

Kame taps off some ash, very measured. "I liked you even when you were a brat."

"I'll show you brat," Jin says huffily.

"I don't doubt it." Kame puffs on his cigarette again, while Jin tries to think of something bratty to do to him _right now_.

"But Akira is like you, too," Kame says. "Differently." He gives Jin a look, brief, but heavy with time, the days on minibuses and nights in hotels they spent talking.

"He's smarter than me, though," Jin says, blinking out at the trees.

"Well, that's not aiming very high."

Jin elbows him.

Kame lights a second cigarette, but it's relaxed, not desperate. Jin doesn't comment. Kame lets the breeze be the only sound for a moment, and then says very carefully, "He won't believe the roommate version forever. Or even very long. He'll figure it out."

"Yeah," Jin says. He hadn't thought about it yet, but Kame's right. He throws Kame a cautious look, but his smoking profile isn't giving anything away. "Is that... terrible?" he tries.

Kame shoots him an odd glance. "There's been speculation about me for decades. I don't see Akira selling the story to top up his pocket money. But you're... new to this." Straight, Jin thinks he means. "And he's your son."

"I can handle my son knowing about my private life," Jin says. Now that it no longer involves unemployment and the threat of eviction... Some people might wonder about his priorities, but Jin's quite fine with them. "I'm not worried about it."

Kame mulls that over, but in the end he nods quietly and that's settled.

"How were things at the office this morning?"

"Fine," Kame says.

"Anything new?" Jin prods. "I thought you were interviewing for the new Arashi manager." They've come around to not actively calling for Kame's head, Jin heard, but both Kame and the guys figure it's healthier to have an administrative buffer for now.

"Yes. It went quite well," Kame says in that same smooth voice.

Jin raises his eyebrows and stares, not that Kame will get the full benefit in this light.

Eventually Kame notices the silence. He blinks at Jin. "Sorry. I..." He shrugs. "I think I've narrowed it down to three I could live with, though we're still vetting one who used to work for the Koreans." He taps another cigarette from the pack and gives Jin a small smile. "Sorry."

"Are Arashi okay with those three too?"

"Yes. We made the list together. Well, in a back and forth through Koki, really. Figured that was best."

Jin nods and leans against the balustrade. Sounds like it's going as well as it could.

Kame eyes him again. "I'm still getting used to just telling someone... things. Without worrying about it."

"I know, it's hard to turn from Lex Luthor back into Superman," Jin says. He catches the flash of Kame wanting to tackle him. "But you'll get better at it with practice." He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Kame's pants. "You always do."

"And you're mixing something _up_ ," Kame says tightly. "Superman turns into Clark Kent, Luthor just gets more evil."

"Whatever," Jin says. "Stop quibbling and don't be that guy."

Kame lets the pull on his waist go where Jin wants, ends up pressing against him.

"You'll have to relearn a lot of things," Jin says, and holds Kame's eyes, surprise and all. "That normal people do." Touch, when you want it. A hug, when you're happy.

Kame looks almost intimidated. But he's Kame, and so never intimidated for long, and next his hand is on Jin's neck and he's kissing Jin as if Jin's been waiting for it all day.

When he stops, he leaves Jin with his eyes closed and his pulse beating faster. "Sorry, I... your kids."

"Don't apologize," Jin says, sweaty where Kame's hands hold him; control settling over Kame like his very own flying cape and Jin finds even that... appealing. But, yeah. He would just _die_ if Sara woke up and wanted an orange juice. "Can't have everything," he sighs.

Kame's breath goes out in a shudder and he kisses Jin clumsily behind the ear. Then he lets him go. "But a lot," he mumbles, then pockets the lighter and turns for the door.

 

### Sunday

Jin is up at seven by force of the alarm. Kame blinks at him in a puzzled sort of way.

"Sara," Jin says. "She wakes up around now."

It's only one coffee later that Sara comes traipsing out of the guest room, dragging the bunny by the neck.

"Daaaaad," she whines, and Jin pulls her on his lap, where she proceeds to wake up with her eyes closed.

They have breakfast together. Kame makes eggs for them and Jin watches, and it's only when Akira gives him a _look_ that he notices the silly smile he's wearing.

But that's the only incident.

Breakfast, a bath for Akira because he was secretly into the jets too, and Jin and the kids playing Jenga until it's close to lunch time, the time he promised Meisa they'd be back.

It feels far too early. But Jin keeps agreements, and he knows this was just the first time. They can come Fridays and stay through to Monday, they can come _whenever_. It all worked.

"Bye, Kame," Akira says shyly, and Kame's reply is just a little shy, too

"BYE!" Sara waves. "See you next weekend. Remember about the kiwi, okay?"

*~*~*

When Jin comes back Kame is on the phone, waving quietly, his hair sticking up. Jin wonders about that, until Kame rolls his eyes at the air and runs five fingers over his head, saying, "No! If the offer gets out, we're looking at a week of his agency whining at us and trying to outbid us."

Jin leaves him to it and straightens the place out a bit. Kame's made the bed in the kids' room but hasn't folded it away, so Jin does that, and puts the sheets in the laundry.

In the living room, there is foam covering the remnants of the chocolate stain, Kame on the case. The couch is already in order, and the rest...

In Kame's white gleaming shelf sits a pink book on puppies. Jin takes it out and shakes his head.

He hears a breath behind him. Kame coming over, phone call must be finished. "Sara-chan forgot that," he says.

Jin tries to look stricken. "It ruins your color scheme."

Kame blinks at him. Then his mouth twitches. "Do you think she'd notice if I swapped it for a book on cows?" he asks as he takes it off Jin and flips it over for the back text.

"Not all cows are black and white," Jin laughs.

"Zebras, then," Kame says, and puts the book back, Tani the title puppy looking out over the living room. After a pause, he asks. "How was Meisa?"

Did she have a belated fit over her children meeting her ex-husband's gay lover, is what Kame means. "She was fine," Jin says. They had their awkward conversation a few days ago, after his little family birthday party. "I think she's holding back a bit, doesn't want to intrude."

"Good," Kame says, and Jin knows by now he's trying not to look relieved.

"Well, she still knew you when you were nice," he says, and Kame flushes a bit, but now there's a smile tugging at his mouth. He's in suit pants and a shirt, as always, but they're less sharp, Kame Sunday casual. He's put no make-up on, and his hair is still a mess from the exasperating phone call. He's hot without trying.

It comes over Jin with a wave of fatigue and a craving for warmth, rumpled Kame or at least their soft rumpled bed. Seven o'clock starts haven't been his thing since Meisa kicked him out, and with the box job, that was bedtime.

"I could do with a nap," he says.

"So take one," Kame says easily. "It's Sunday."

Yeah. "Take one with me?" Jin says, and tries to let his eyes convey that he wouldn't expect Kame to sleep, exactly.

"I'm still expecting a call," Kame says with a smile. "Time zones, has to be today." Guy's not the boss for nothing.

The bed is made and not all that rumpled, but just as comfortable and soothing as he'd hoped. He strips to his t-shirt and curls up under satin that warms quickly.

He's left the door open. Now and then he can hear Kame's voice; the balcony door opening and closing; Kame's chair moving in his office.

*~*~*

There's a touch on his hair, light and fleeting. His shoulder. It's disorienting and then he's awake, and he smiles.

"...'sup."

Kame is sitting on the side of the bed. Jin curls in again and pushes his hair out of his face.

"It's half past four," Kame says softly. "We go in tomorrow at eight. I thought I shouldn't let you sleep till evening."

"Thanks," Jin mumbles.

Kame stays sitting, as if watching Jin wake up is somehow entertaining. It's a lovely warmth, slowly chasing sleep away.

"You done with work?"

"Yeah."

"Want to come in?" Jin lifts the cover a little, stretches a little more.

Kame smiles at him. He opens his palm and holds up a bright green sock, Princess-size. "I found this in the bathroom."

Jin smiles back. "First puppies, then socks..."

"Well, I have a lot of space," Kame says, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm excited to think what I'll find next."

He puts the sock carefully on the bedside cabinet, and starts to get up. Jin quickly takes his hand.

"So," he says. "How about it, want to claim a reward after working through your Sunday?"

Kame stills and gives his hand a squeeze. "I was just about to make coffee."

"Coffee's good," Jin says, but... wait. Coffee, not really _that_ urgent. Is he not being clear enough?

But Kame has already freed his hand and is slipping out the door, away. Jin stares after him, and at the bed, where he invited Kame twice now. At the bright green sock on the bedside table. That's when it clicks.

He grabs the sock and catches up with Kame in front of the gleaming Italian coffee station, the one piece of extravagant machinery in here Kame seems on intimate terms with.

"Hey," Jin says, slamming the sock on the counter. "What is this?"

"Espresso?" Kame blinks, stopping with the bag in hand. But he licks his lips, he _knows_ Jin knows. "But I can make yours a latte if you want."

"Just because you've met my kids, you think now you can't fuck me anymore?"

That little freeze is pretty much his answer. But then Kame gets his cautious face on, and Jin wants to steal that damn coffee prop away from him. "I didn't say that," Kame says. "I'm just making coffee. And I thought you might..."

Jin waits him out. He can't tell the guy how dumb he is until he knows just _how_ dumb he is.

"I thought it might feel strange, after this kind of weekend," Kame says blandly. "You have a family and..."

And?

"And parents aren't allowed sex?" Jin says, crossing his arms.

Kame gives a tiny shrug, and Jin can tell he actually has to make up his mind to answer, not just shut Jin down. "I just thought it might feel wrong."

"For whom, exactly?"

Okay, he doesn't recall Kame looking so... helpless. "It's just, what we do. Is that really how…"

Yes. That's really, truly how. Jin didn't move in here for the excellent coffee.

"Look, fact of life," he says. "I've got kids. Other fact of life, I like the sex with you. What we _do_. That's got nothing to do with my kids except in your stupid head right now. And since you decided to be stuck with me, I expect you to get over that _soon_ , because I've got a lot of fucking to catch up on."

Kame thinks about that. It looks like hard work. His smile is still nervous, and hidden, but it's the kind that bodes well. "You're being pretty pushy," he says.

Oh, Kame's hasn't _seen_ pushy. Jin steps forward and Kame lets him take the coffee bag, backs up as Jin moves in. "Well, there's your problem," Jin says, and they're not exactly smooth, walking into the counter, rattling the coffee station, and a spoon clatters to the floor. "I've gotten _way_ out of hand. Why don't you do something about that?" But at least Kame lets him; lets him get real close. He puts his mouth behind Kame's ear and feels the first shiver, stillness pulling Kame tight. "And give it to me good."

Kame hisses in air. The stillness fades, his hands come around Jin, settling on his ass. "Don't bite off more than you can chew, Akanishi."

_Better._ "But I already have," Jin says, licking that bit of skin, tugging at Kame's earlobe. "I've been really, really bad."

Kame's hands pull; squeeze. Jin feels his interest at hip-level between them and his head's getting light. He's never talked like this, to _anyone_ , but he's almost high. Kame's finally getting with the program.

"Guess I've been careless," Kame says. "Let things slide." There's menace and a smile at the same time, like fire up Jin's spine. "Guess I should correct that."

"Told you it'll be worth your while to have me here." He grinds against Kame, as much as Kame lets him. "All that access to my ass."

Kame splays his hands wide on that ass, hot through the thin boxer fabric, spreading him. Jin's breath hitches just from that.

Kame's fingers touch skin and it burns. Then his hands pull back, to Jin's hips, turn him, nothing coy or shy about him now. "You know where the bedroom is."

Jin falls back against Kame's erection, lets himself be _real_ heavy. "I'm not sure I've been paying proper attention," he says. This is fun. "Left without instruction..." He gasps when Kame cups his dick through the boxers, pressing hard. "...too long."

"I see," Kame says, and it sounds breathless and full of realization, _ideas_. "I'll have to help you with that." He takes Jin's hand and twists it up between them, up; slowly along Jin's arching back.

"Say stop," he whispers, and Jin doesn't, not for a bit, not until it hurts and then he bites his lip and hears Kame's breathing.

"Stop," he says, the ache shivering even. It's uncomfortable and turns him the fuck on.

"Move," Kame says.

This time, he behaves. His shoulder burns, tear and tug as Kame pushes him forward. His dick makes his boxers stick out, Kame's strength behind him turning him weak and silly and he doesn't _care_.

Kame gives him a shove at the end, landing him half on, half off the bed. He makes no move to get up, just turns to see Kame, tall in outline, in a way that's got nothing to do with centimeter count.

Kame's eyes scan him up and down. There's color in Kame's face and a hard-on in his pants, and a look like he's about to unwrap a birthday present. He raises his arms to undo the cuffs on his shirt, and pauses. Beautiful and hard like that art of his. Jin almost touches himself.

"What?" he asks hoarsely.

Kame finishes with the cuffs, watching Jin all the time; all the time. "You want to suck my cock for a change?"

Does he? His own cock pulses, his mouth dry, nervous. That's how they started. He liked it even then.

But now he doesn't need emptiness, to forget his life. He's got everything now.

"Yeah, let me do it," he says. "I shouldn't get out of practice."

Kame's feet prod him, Kame's hand pulling his chin up, his back against the bed. Jin licks his lips, and Kame's eyes flare, before he undoes his pants. "Okay then, show me if you've learned anything," Kame says, which would be mean, except it makes Jin's ears rush more.

And Kame's dick is right in front of him, and then it's in his mouth, that alien taste and the heat of a hundred kisses, soft and hard and smooth, and it all makes his head spin.

"Oh god Jin," Kame whispers, hips starting on a shallow groove after the customary introduction, "I've jerked off just thinking about your mouth."

Jin closes his eyes, his breath short and his heart pumping. He's got it in his head now, got it all over him, Kame coming from doing what he wants with Jin in his mind.

_Focus._

"Don't worry," Kame says. "I'll still fuck you." He slows Jin down, everything tingling, Kame watching. Yeah, he'd better.

Jin sucks hard, pulls back, remembers instructions from long ago. He tries to lick the head without his mouth slipping off, and everything's buzzing with how he wants to please and how somehow, somewhere, he finds that hot.

"Not bad," Kame comments, haughty bastard. It prickles on Jin's neck. "But not quite good either."

So he tries to be better. Tries harder with his tongue, runs it all around, sloppily. Kame keeps the loose rhythm and lets him try, try again, his cock growing thicker in Jin's mouth.

"You're eager," Kame breathes, approving. God, yes. Kame's hand goes tight in his hair, and he slows down, all the way down until they're still. Jin breathes, spit pooling in his mouth, and Kame right in front of him, inside him. "How much can you take?"

Even if Jin could answer, he doesn't know. He pulls forward, against Kame's hand, around Kame's cock, and Kame gets it, the grip changing, guiding. Slow; deep enough to make Jin sweat all over, and he holds and breathes, Kame holds him, Kame is shaking. "Good little cocksucker," he says, and Jin tries, think around it and breathe around it and focus on Kame's hand, but it's hot and tight at the back of his throat and then he can't.

He gags and pulls back, and Kame lets go at once. Jin's chest is heaving, his mouth numb. There's a little smile on Kame's face.

"We can keep working on that."

Before Jin can think of a reply, Kame pulls him up, up all the way and into a deep rough kiss. Jin's first thought is panic, he was still breathing wrong, but then he goes with it and it gets easy, and great, just great, Kame's arms holding him and Kame's tongue exploring him, and he doesn't even feel like trying to take over.

Then Kame releases his mouth, licking and sucking up the side of Jin's neck, little nips and bites that make Jin shudder. "You did well," Kame whispers when his tongue snakes around Jin's earlobe. "I'll fuck you now."

Jin whimpers, holds his breath. If Kame keeps this up, he's just going to come.

Kame doesn't. He lets him go, pushes him back, Jin's knees buckling against the edge of the bed. He lands on it with a bounce, a thud of arousal.

Kame's hands are on his buttons, his cock naked and dark, the suit pants and the shirt, and Jin's throat is dry and... "Keep it on," he finds himself saying. "Keep your clothes on."

Kame stills for a moment, a sudden blink. Then he lets his arms sink. His smile flickers up again. "You kinky little slut."

Jin swallows dry, yes he is, and he wants to laugh and he wants Kame to say it again.

"Get your pants off then," Kame says. "The t-shirt too."

Jin squirms out of the boxers, yanks the t-shirt off. Kame watches his lack of grace and it's just more of a turn-on.

Then he's done, waiting again. Kame never takes his eyes off him. Not when he moves around the bed, not when he snatches the lube in the bedside drawer. He tosses it in his hand like they used to flip those mics. Makes Jin watch.

He holds Jin's eyes while he flicks it open, dribbles some on his palm. It's Jin who blinks away, down, when Kame's hand falls to his cock, makes a fist around it... push and pull, in and out, and it could be Jin around him and Jin's almost trembling with want.

He finds Kame smiling like he knows. "Turn over," he says. "Get ready."

Jin is quick, Kame's last words still echoing when he's on his knees, shoulders on the mattress and his ass in the air, and _please_.

Kame hasn't even moved yet.

But now he does. The bed dips and Jin breathes out, Kame's thighs pushing against his before anything else, the suit...

"Pretty," Kame says, hands trailing up Jin's thighs, down his ass; fingers dipping between. "I don't even know what I want to do with you first," and… oh god there. It's playful, not Kame's cock, and cool, two fingers or three, just playing right there.

Jin shivers, strains to spread wider, come _on_.

"Don't move," Kame says. "You don't want to spoil the good impression you're making."

His fingers drive in fast and Jin jerks, can't help pushing back against it, blunt and burning and deep and Kame leans in, his cock smearing more lube against Jin's ass.

"You're being bad again," he rasps.

"Punish me," Jin suggests, and it doesn't even feel stupid.

There's a snort, but another deep thrust, too, Kame patting his ass. "Maybe I'll be nice and help you be good."

What?

Kame twists his fingers out and then he taps on Jin's back. "Your hands, here."

Oh. Jin shifts, squirms his arms back, all his weight on his shoulders now. Kame takes his wrists in one hand, and there's a slip of something, a menacing clink, and Kame's belt wrapping around them, tight.

Kame slaps his ass. "Better."

He puts his fingers inside Jin again, and Jin whimpers, he just wants to melt around them. It's weird, how having your hands tied fast makes it even hotter.

"You're so ready for me," Kame says.

"I'm still your whore?"

"You're the whoriest whore that ever whored," Kame says, and it sounds almost like a blessing. "But only for me."

His hands spread Jin wide, and there's his cock, and Jin gives around him, feels him slide in all the way, and then he's full. At last. He feels like his hair is standing up all over his body.

"My personal whore," Kame says. "And I'm going to fuck you so hard."

God yes.

"And you'll do only what I want." Kame reaches for his hands and pulls, just enough to be tight, not enough to be painful. "Hold still. Be good."

He's good, he's perfect. Holding still, just for Kame, he's all for Kame; still and tense, he's _trying_ , and the tension makes him tighter, makes Kame feel rougher, and nothing takes his mind off the push and slide, it's all he gets, all he is.

"Good whore," Kame says gently, and Jin moans and doesn't want to _move_ and...

Kame slows, the strain easing. Jin shudders all over when Kame reaches around for his cock. "Sorry," he says, freezing, "sorry."

"No, that's your reward," Kame says silkily, gives him a squeeze. "I want to feel you come when I'm deep inside you."

That won't be difficult, Jin thinks. Not anymore.

"Go for it," Kame whispers, and Jin jerks, thrusts into Kame's hand, and onto his cock, and again, and Kame keeps him close and right and it goes so, so fast.

He comes in Kame's tight grip, his eyes screwed shut and his ass spread for Kame, and his head is full and empty and pulsing with _more more more_. God, this is amazing.

"I love how much you love it," Kame says, full of focus. Then he grips Jin's hips, and takes him again; takes him for a short hard ride, selfish and driven and it's so perfect Jin wants to cry.

The end's an incoherent gasp, a final slam, sweat and suit and skin as Kame jerks against him.

Then they're just breathing, ragged, Kame holding Jin to steady himself. He's coming down, everywhere, and when he finally slips out of Jin he's still holding him. Breathing.

"Well done," he says at last, but it sounds hoarse and not at all bossy.

Jin _hmms_ happily and does nothing else. He's not sure he'll ever be able to do anything else again.

The bed sags when Kame falls down beside him, flat on his back. Jin rolls heavily on his side. Once the tension is off his arms it's easy to wiggle his hands out of the belt, too.

"You were right," Kame says, spreading his hand lazily on Jin's naked hip. The sticky warmth is like an aftershock. "Having your ass on call will improve my life."

Jin curls in a bit. He's always liked being right.

Kame is facing the ceiling with his eyes closed. Jin almost laughs because he's such a mess, hair stuck sweatily to his face, the formerly hot overlord suit just a pile of wrinkles with random lube stains, and in the middle of it his sleepy dick.

"Hey there, boss guy, sir," Jin says. "You can take your clothes off now."

Kame squints at him as if he's an unruly underling, but then he lifts his hips and pushes the pants down, and off. The shirt is more work. Jin kind of enjoys watching Kame move this zonked out.

He slides his hand on Kame's stomach, still hot, the sweat still coming. It's all very encouraging, Jin thinks. Nobody fucks a guy like that and still considers him too pure for fun. "You're pretty good for someone without practice, too," he says, and giggles when Kame tries to glare at him. "Imagine what you can do if you try a bit harder." He tickles Kame's skin.

Kame snorts, trying to hide his own smile. But he doesn't hide from Jin's touch. Jin lets his eyes close over the view of his messy hair, his curving mouth.

They drift like that. Jin would go to sleep if he hadn't had a nap. It's surprisingly long before Kame's stomach goes tense with thinking, planning, but when it happens, Jin can feel it under his hand. "I should..."

He gives Kame just a hint of pressure. "It's five on a Sunday," he says. A July Sunday with soft sun through the blinds and the aircon quietly whispering. "You should nothing."

Deep down, he's surprised when Kame gives in. This kind of cooperative management style will do him good. More sleep, more sex, less stress.

Pink puppy books and movie nights.

Kame looks at him, and it's right there too. All of it. He holds Jin's eyes past comfortable, past polite, another burn that makes him shiver.

How long's it been that this started, that this happened? Just weeks? It feels longer. It feels lasting, right at the core of him.

"So this is how we live?" Kame asks.

"Yes," Jin says. He thinks that sums it up nicely.

~

END


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